


Lost Sheep

by YourLocalPriestess



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Backstory, Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/F, F/M, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Mass Effect Big Bang 2017, Past Rape/Non-con, bad guys do real bad stuff yall, lots and lots of sufferingggg, only mentions/implications of the past stuff, present attempts are non-graphic, slavery mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalPriestess/pseuds/YourLocalPriestess
Summary: It seemed Commander Shepard's history with the Reds would follow her for the length of her career. Accepting a notorious gang member into their navy wasn't exactly the Alliance's style, nor what you would expect a gang member to turn to after a life of crime and violence. So what was her story? What could have driven her to such a drastic change? That is a story that Commander Shepard will take to her grave.Until now.





	1. A Living Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. So, graphic violence tag is for real, and I think it's in every one except Ch. 2. There is graphic violence in this chapter and a non-graphic attempted rape. These scenes don't last especially long at all.
> 
> With warnings said and done, a little introduction. This is the origin story of my first Shep: Cal Shepard. It follows her story of joining the Reds all the way to joining the Alliance. It's a WILD ride and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. I know I enjoyed writing it ^_^
> 
> HUGE FUCKING THANK YOU to the best and most amazing artist that I got for this BB, my dear friend [potionsmaster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/works) ^_^ She did this amazing banner and art of my girl and I'm dead??? It's fucking flawless???? Thank you so so so much a million times over love. You are everything good in this world and I am so lucky and so grateful to have had you <3 You can find the link to her [masterpost](https://nightmarestudio606.tumblr.com/post/164713586675/coming-soon-lost-sheep-by-yourlocalpriestess) here. Please give her some love, because she's just the best and she deserves it! ^_^
> 
> And another thank you to [zenstrike](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zenstrike) for reading over this fic and beta-ing when it was a rough piece of garbage. You made my life easier and I soooo appreciate your help, my friend ^_^
> 
> Okay, enough babbling. Here we go!

Jane tucked her red hair under her cap, pulling it lower on her forehead as she shrugged further into the jacket she’d nicked off of Tom Wilburn. She walked fast, slipping and sliding in between the bustling people. It was nothing to see a kid by themselves in NYC, and even less when they were quiet. No one so much as glanced her way. She looked over her shoulder to be sure, but nothing. No one. She swallowed back the fear that had nestled into her throat and let some of the tension leave her shoulders.

She was on an emptier street now. A few people moved to and from the open shops littered throughout. She straightened and lifted her cap again. The lofty smell of Chinese noodles blew past her on the breeze and her stomach gurgled in response. She sighed, shoving her hands deep into her empty pockets. _Later._ The sun was going down and the further she walked down the street the more deserted it became. She had no idea where she was. It was probably better that way. If she didn’t know, he wouldn’t either. The wind nipped at her face, sending a shiver down her spine.

She was zipping up her jacket when an arm appeared around her middle and a hand covered her mouth. She screamed and kicked and bit at the hand, but nothing helped. The grip was infallible. The skin on the arm around her waist tore where she clawed at it. The man only grunted, annoyed. He adjusted his grip and dragged her flailing body into the shadows.

She wasn’t sure how long he dragged her through the darkness, alley after alley all blurring together. Tears burned in her eyes and raced down her cheeks. She hated herself for it. _Stop crying stop crying_. He always liked it when she cried.

Finally, a door opened and the man threw her against a mat on stone floor. She wiped at her eyes furiously and turned to face her attacker. Charles Newman, her foster parent until roughly five hours ago when she’d ran. She snarled, low and guttural, and scrabbled for purchase on the plastic mat as she backed away.

The man smirked at her and grabbed her ankle in his gigantic hand, pulling her back to him with one swift tug. “What’s the matter, Jane?” he purred, stoking her cheek. She recoiled at the touch. “Always trying to run away…”

She snapped at his hand. “Get the fuck away from me!”

He glared and snatched both of her wrists in one hand. “Ungrateful bitch.” Without warning, he pressed a sloppy, wet kiss against her neck, running his tongue up its length to her ear. When he pulled back, smirking again, she head-butted him and screamed as long and loud as her lungs could muster.

He laughed. “Scream all you want, princess. No one’s around to hear.”

A sob wracked through her and fresh tears raced down her cheeks as his hand began to stroke up her jean clad leg. She squirmed but he only adjusted to compensate for her movement. _No, no, not again. Please._

“Hey!”

The shout echoed through the dimly lit, dank, abandoned room. They both turned to it. A kid stepped out of the shadows. A teenager. He was glaring at Newman like he was ten feet taller.

“She said, get the fuck off of her.” His voice echoed again, loud and somehow deep in comparison to his appeared age. Jane swallowed and shot a glance at Charles.

He was still for a moment, before he laughed at the boy. He was still laughing as he moved and pinned both of her forearms under his knees. She cried out against the painful pressure, but he ignored her; he only watched the boy while he unbuttoned his pants.

“Do the smart thing, son. Leave.”

“No, please!” She shot the boy a look, eyes wide and desperate. “Please, don’t go.”

“The girl said no,” the boy repeated. And just like that, three more teenagers came out of the shadows, two boys and a young girl, all holding guns and aiming them at Charles.

He pulled his hands away from his freshly unzipped pants. “Hey, hey. Let’s not be hasty.”

“Get off of her,” the boy ordered.

“Alright, alright.” He lifted his knees, keeping his hands in the air as he rose. She tripped over her own feet as she flung herself off the mat, pulling herself into a standing position and sprinting to her unlikely heroes.

“Thank you,” she said to the boy. He was about a foot taller than her, and looked closer to a man than a boy up close.

He gave a quick once over. “He hurt you?”

“No.” She rubbed at her wrists and glanced at the man. “No, I’m fine.”

“But he has before.”

She looked up at him, surprised. His features were hard and his eyes were cold. She swallowed once and nodded.

“Fucking bastard,” the girl bit out. Jane could see her tighten the grip on her gun, rage boiling into every jerky movement.

“Hold it,” the boy said. “Hack.” He held out his hand to one of the other boys. The one he had addressed released his gun and handed it to the leader, grip first. The boy then turned to her and held it out.

She gaped and took a half step back, glancing between him and the gun as a frown took over her face. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

The boy’s mouth formed a hard line for a moment. “Whatever he deserves.”

Jane was surprised her hand didn’t shake as she flexed her fingers over it. She wondered if this was a time when she should pretend she’d never held a gun before.

“Now, wait, hang on!” Charles shouted, a self-righteous anger boiling into every echoing word.

She decided now was not the time to pretend.

In one swift motion, she raised the gun and fired a shot that landed square between his eyes. Blood and brain matter burst onto the wall behind him while a single drop of blood rolled down his nose. He slumped first to his knees, then collapsed onto his shocked, frozen face with a satisfying crunch.

“Hmm.” The boy made a bemused face at the now lifeless form on the floor, then turned back to her with an outstretched hand. “Name’s Finch.”

She shot the body one last look, attempted to soak up the full lack of remorse she felt, then shook his hand. “Jane.”

“Jane.” He grinned. “You hungry?”

Her stomach gurgled. She gave him a nod.

“Alright, follow me.” He paused mid-step. “Oh, could I have that back? It’s Hack’s favorite.”

She pursed her lips and flexed her fingers around the still-warm gun, now aimed at the floor. She didn’t know these people. They could be anyone. They could want anything. But the boy, Finch, just held his hand out, all the hardness gone from his eyes. She relaxed with a swallow, and turned the gun his way, grip first.

He smiled and passed it back to ‘Hack.’ That couldn’t be his real name, could it? He didn’t look a day over fifteen. Finch’s gaze was back on her as she resumed her study of him. “Let’s go.”

 

She wasn’t from New York City. Not even close. But to be fair, she didn’t know where she was from at all. But she’d lived in Michigan for a while, then Colorado after that. She liked the mountains there. Here, the skyscrapers were a whole new kind of mountains. Finch and his crew (who she had learned were Flex, Hack, and Matches – and all incredibly weird) led her through back alley ways, but in the times she glanced down the narrow routes to the main strip, she saw the bustle and shine of the neon city night life. Whoever her rescuers were, they didn’t want to be seen. And that was just fine with her.

“You ever shot someone before?” Finch asked, like he was asking her about the weather.

“No,” she lied.

“Ah!” he cried, a smirk quirking his lips. He glanced at her, though he didn’t stop, amusement sparking in his eyes. It was unnerving. “You hesitated. I mean, that was a hell of a shot. No way you haven’t shot a gun before.”

She remained quiet, eyes forward and tight lipped.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I don’t care what you did, who you shot, what your reasons are. Just feeling curious.”

They continued in silence, deep into the recesses of the foreign city. It felt like hours later when they finally reached an empty alley way that opened into an even emptier street. Finch lifted a loose panel on the wall to reveal a retina scanner. A creeping feeling of unrest raced up her spine, leaving her ridged, as he leaned forward. The light blue light moved up and down over his eye, then there was a click, and in they went. She only hesitated for a moment at the threshold before stepping in and letting the door close behind her.

Inside, it was a centuries-old refurbished warehouse. Where there were once only bare bricks, now the ceiling remained open in parts, while some second story rooms had been added. Partitions littered the bottom floor to create further separations, but the entrance space was open, filled with work benches for guns, armor, whatever, and a small kitchenette area.

Matches, the young girl, was only beginning to settle her things and joke around with Hack, when another girl rounded the corner of one of the partitions, eyes somehow burning a hole through the wall even while wearing gigantic, rounded goggles.

“Where in the _fuck_ have you been?” she shouted. Jane froze, as did the others, but the more goggle-girl moved, the closer she got to Finch, and the others relaxed. Jane backed away from him.

Finch, to his credit, held his ground. “Brains!” he cried, grinning. “I missed you too!”

“Have you never heard of fucking _comms_?!” she shouted, punching him in the shoulder. “You were supposed to be back an hour ago!”

“Calm down, it’s not like–”

“It is _exactly_ like,” she fumed. Just like that her head snapped toward Jane, then back to him. “Who the hell is this?”

Jane frozen under goggle-girl’s scrutiny. Finch threw an arm around her shoulders and turned her so that they both now faced Jane head on. “This is Jane! We just saved her from a rather…compromising position.”

The girl gave her a once over, crossed her arms, and glared up at him. “Good deeds aside, you couldn’t have at least radioed in to let me know you were running behind.”

“Must have slipped my mind.” He smiled at her and bumped her hip with his own.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged off his arm. “Asshole.” She stalked over to the workbench where Matches had just finished unloading and organizing their weaponry. “I need to check in the guns,” she said over her shoulder.

Finch was still smiling as she picked up Hack’s gun, then suddenly his eyes went wide and the color drained from his face. “Oh, Brains, wait!”

Just as he shouted out, she rounded on him slowly; lifting her goggles from her face. The glare she shot him could level all the mountains of Colorado. “You shot a gun?!” she shrieked. “How many _fucking_ times do I have to explain this to you empty headed pyjacks?”

“Oi!” Around the corner of a partition emerged another young boy, maybe sixteen, clad in a purple silk bathrobe and rubbing his eyes. “Can’t a bloke get some beauty sleep ‘round here?”

Finch ignored him. “The guy was going to _rape_ her. What were we supposed to do, let him go?”

Goggle-girl, ‘Brains’ apparently, opened and closed her mouth multiple times before finally clamping her lips into a hard line. “Fine,” she bit out. She narrowed her eyes at Jane. “You kill him?”

She raised her chin. “Yeah.”

“Good.” With that, Brains turned back to the bench and began disassembling and cleaning the guns.

“Come on,” Finch said, jerking his head toward the makeshift kitchen. “Let’s get you formally introduced.” She followed him over to the others. “This is Adonis, resident narcissist and piss baby.”

“Fuck off.” Purple bathrobe guy shot Finch a warning look as he sipped his coffee before turning to Jane with a warm smile. He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, love. And you are?”

“Jane.” She shook his hand.

“You’ve met Matches.”

The small girl from earlier shot her a toothy grin and waved once from where she was perched on a table. “Hey!”

“And Hack.”

Hack smiled at her over the fridge door. His blonde wavy hair fell over his eyes as he ducked behind it in search of food.

“And of course Flex.”

The last boy of the original party was a hulking mass of muscle. She had previously assumed he only scowled, but now he smirked and gave her a small nod.

“And this lovely creature is Brains.” He pointed to the work bench again. Brains only raised her middle finger and continued working. “And that’s us!” Finch smiled at her then. He looked…proud.

“Right,” Jane said. She tested her words carefully in her head before letting them tumble off of her tongue. “So, who are you guys? What’s with the weird names?”

“You mean you’ve never heard of us?” Matches’ head dropped and then she rolled it toward Finch. “I told you we needed to take on more jobs.”

Finch waved her off. “We’re the Reds,” he explained. “Notorious gang. Bringers of mayhem. That sort of thing. Not ringing any bells?”

Jane pursed her lips and shook her head. “No. I’m not from around here.”

“Where are you from?” Hack asked through a mouthful of chicken as he closed the fridge.

“Not really sure. Colorado mostly, but I’ve been moved around a lot.”

“Are you an orphan or something?” Flex asked, his voice exactly as rough as she expected it to sound.

She swallowed. “Yeah, something like that.”

Matches’ eyes blew wide. “Shit. What happened to your parents?”

“No idea.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. I’ve learned to take care of myself.”

Finch smirked. “That much is evident.”

Jane frowned. “Sorry, wait, you said you’re a gang? How? You’re all…kids.”

They all laughed and Jane felt a blush creep up her face. Without warning, Brains appeared next to her, making her jump.

“That’s the point,” Brains said, bone dry. She rubbed the barrel of the gun with her rag. “We’re non-descript. Orphans. No one expects shit from us or gives a shit about us.”

“You’re orphans too?” She looked at Finch.

“Yeah. Matches here is thirteen and been with us about a year. Hack and I have been here from the start, though he’s only fifteen to my seventeen. We found Flex two years ago starving in the street, and now he’s a fully-fledged eighteen year old adult person.” He grinned at her and winked while Flex rolled his eyes. “Adonis is our newbie; he’s only been here about a month or so, and he’s sixteen. And Brains here, also sixteen, has been here – what is it, two years?”

“I got here a month after Flex.”

Finch smiled again. Jesus, he was smiley. “And there you have it.”

“Alright, can we eat dinner now?” Matches whined.

“Sure, if you’re cooking.” He muffed her short, afro hair. She punched him in the shoulder and attempted to re-shape it. They all sat down at the small table while she grumbled and gathered the food.

 

“You never did tell me what your guys’ names were all about,” Jane commented, hours later, fully sated and more relaxed than she’d felt in…too long. She knew she probably shouldn’t feel so at ease with a self-proclaimed gang, one that she’d seen firsthand wasn’t shy of doing the ugly things to get shit done, but even that added a strange comfort. She leaned back against the corner of the loveseat and observed the gang that now sat in a relaxed circle.

“Oh?” Adonis perked a brow and smirked, but otherwise didn’t move. He glanced at Finch, who was leaning forward in his seat, sharpening a knife. “You didn’t tell her?”

Finch shrugged one shoulder. “I think you guys can handle that.”

Adonis chuckled. “Fair enough.” He looked back at Jane. “We earn our names here, based on our skills or something we accomplish. Hack dubbed me Adonis after our first job. We got caught but I was able to schmooze the cop until the rest got out of there.”

“He had her eating out of the palm of his hand.” Hack grinned. “Charming, British bastard. So combined with that pretty face and his pretty words – Adonis.”

“I’m the pyro,” Matches added from her corner, sly smile creeping up her face. “Anything that needs to be blown up or set on fire, I’m your girl.”

“Flex, well, he’s pretty self-evident,” Hack said with a chuckle.

Flex grimaced at him. “As is ‘Hack,’ one would think.”

“Yeah! I do pretty much everything to do with tech.” Brains cleared her throat next to Jane, but didn’t look up from her datapad. Hack rolled his eyes. “Other than Brains over here.”

“Why do they call you Brains? Are you in charge?” Jane asked.

They all laughed. Brains only glanced at her and raised one dubious eyebrow. “Not hardly.” She went back to scrolling through the screen. “I am, however, chief strategist. I also plan all the jobs, schedule trainings, et cetra.”

“So,” Jane turned toward Finch, who had stopped sharpening his knife and was now giving her a crooked smile. “You’re in charge?”

“Guilty. Hack and I were the first. We were in a shit orphanage. Hack was getting the worst of the abuse and I was tired of seeing it. So we left.”

“What’s your story?” Matches asked, leaning forward in her seat, elbows resting on her knees and chin settling in her hand. Jane couldn’t get over how young she looked, how small, even though the girl only dwarfed her by one year.

Jane licked her lips. “I’ve been an orphan all my life, or at least abandoned. Makes my parents as good as dead. The orphanage told me my mom dropped me off on their steps without so much as a note, hence “Jane Smith.” I have no idea who or where my dad is, if he’s even alive. Since then I’ve bounced all over the country through different homes. But most of them,” she swallowed, “aren’t good. They didn’t have good people. So I kept running. And the agency kept moving me.”

“Is that who that guy was?” Flex asked. She could hear a bubble of rage under his words.

She only nodded. “Yeah. Foster dad.”

“How long were you there?” Matches asked, her voice soft and eyes wide.

“Too long.” Jane took a shuddering breath. “Tonight was my second time running. Second time being caught too.”

“Shit.” Hack shook his head and sipped his soda. “I’m glad you killed that fucker.”

“Yeah.”

“So.” Finch set his knife down and slapped both his hands on his knees before smirking at her. His eyes glittered with some unnamed fire in the low light of the pseudo living room “What do you think, Jane?”

Her brows knit together. “About?”

Finch held his arms wide. “This. Us. Sticking around.”

“I–” Her throat went suddenly dry.

“We’ve seen your capabilities. You didn’t hesitate back there. We need people with resolve like that. We could use you.”

Jane shot a nervous glance around the group only be met with hopeful looks and soft smiles. She swallowed and stopped when her eyes settled on Finch again.

“Okay.”

Matches whooped and ran over to the love seat to give her a hug. Brains glared at her and scooted further away. Jane, despite herself, gave her a smile and patted the girl’s shoulder.

“Alright. Now you just need a name.” Hack smiled and shouted in excitement. “Boss! Can we take her tomorrow?”

Matches was equally gleeful and nudging her shoulder in encouragement. Finch raised his eyebrow at her. “Well?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Finch’s grin could only be described as vicious. “Good.”

 

Jane could feel sweat bead at her brow as they snaked along the shadowed wall of the warehouse. In the light, members of the Venom gang were milling about with the profits of their last hit, a jewelry store in the Reds’ territory. This was the opposing gang’s first offense, but as Finch had told them earlier, “Let them get away with it once and we’ve lost everything.” She fought the urge to sigh at the memory of such dramatics. Regardless of their reasoning, these people taken her in and put a gun in her hand, and that was more than she’d had in years. If all they asked for in return was her help doing jobs; that she could do.

The plan was simple: Let Venom carry in the payload for storage until the next day, position themselves for extraction once everyone was gone, take the pay, and get the hell out. Stealth was key. Venom easily outnumbered them twenty to one, and beyond that, they were fully grown men who were more familiar with the act of killing than scrappy orphan kids. Jane swallowed past the wayward fear that surged in her chest and kept moving alongside Hack, Finch, and Flex on the wall.

After thirty minutes of moving through at a glacial pace, they settled behind a few crates that sat in the room where Venom was stashing the goods. The crates weren’t stacked on top of each other, so the four of them nestled down low with their backs against the crates and facing the wall. They held their breath with every shuffle of feet that moved through the room. Jane’s legs cramped where they were scrunched between the wall and the crate and sweat kept inching its way down her face. She grit her teeth and fought to take slow, steady, quiet breaths. There was no fighting back if they got caught in this position over her discomfort.

It was hours before the warehouse was still enough to move, and even more hours since there had been movement in their storage room. When Finch finally flashed them the signal, Jane had to fight the urge to cry out against the ache in her bones. Judging by the others’ pained faces, they were going through the same. After moment of stretching and flexing out their limbs, Finch waved them into a huddle.

“Alright. You guys know what to do.” He handed out duffles to all of them with the largest one going to Flex. “Fill them as full as you can as fast as you can without making too much noise. By my count we’ve got about twenty minutes before the next walk-through, so that makes fifteen before we get out of this room. Brains already mapped out our exit and it’s a narrow window.” He glanced at the door, back to them, and took a deep breath. “Go!”

Jane lifted gold bars, silver bars, gems, and jewelry arrangements into her bag as fast as she could manage without clanking them all about. She silently thanked the Bales family for making her work their farm for all those months. Her arms ached, but more from being cramped for so long rather than the weight.

Lost in her own thoughts, one of the silver bars slipped from her fingers and began falling into the deep bag. Her eyes blew wide open and as soon as the silver passed the rim she pulled the edges tight shut. The muffled sound of metal hitting metal became no more than a whisper. Finch shot her a look that was somewhere between “Good save” and “I’m going to fucking kill you if you do that again.” Jane swallowed and focused on her movements once more.

They had everything wrapped up in under ten minutes, which was pretty damn good if Finch’s face was anything to go by. They slung their bags over their shoulders as Finch led them out the door and into the open halls of Venom’s warehouse, separated out into a many roomed space by similar partitions that the Reds had.

Quickly, silently, they made their way through hall after hall, stopping and moving at Finch’s hand. Jane could hear her blood pounding in her ears and it was enough to make a familiar fear knot in her stomach, no matter how many times she tried to clamp it down.

Finch held up two fingers. Two more halls. Two more minutes. They were so close now. They rounded another corner, with Jane holding a watch on their rear as the others pressed on. She moved to follow, when a blinding white light hit her face and every muscle in her body filled with lead.

“Oi! Who the fuck are you?”

The hall illuminated instantly after the gruff voice assaulted her ears. Four fully grown, armed men faced her in the narrow hall. She suddenly felt every bit of her youth; small, frail, and so, so naïve.

She took a shaky, shuddering breath. Had to remember the code word. The others had to get out. Get hidden. “Who are you?” she squeaked out. In the corner of her vision, Finch and Hack tugged at Flex, urging him away from the scene. They’d all known the dangers when they started this run. They’d known the plan.

The bag on her back felt even heavier now. Her peripheral vision was empty. She was alone.

The man in the front let out a disbelieving laugh and smirked over his shoulder at his companions. “You believe this?”

A snarl warped his face when he turned back to her. Faster than she could blink, he barreled toward her, snatching her at the throat and slamming her against the wall. The bag fell to the floor with a metallic clatter as stars flashed over her eyes. She coughed and pulled at the engulfing hand that choked her.

“What are you, fifteen? Awful young and pretty to be breaking in here,” he leered. He held a gun in his other hand and ran the barrel down her exposed arm. She flinched and squirmed harder against his grip. “And feisty too.” He grinned back at his companions, who had stepped marginally closer. “What should we do with our little guest boys?”

“We could keep her,” one stated, giving her a lecherous once over.

“We outta kill her,” one added. He had a sour look on his face as he glanced from the one who had just spoken and back to her.

The man that gripped her turned back to her with a smirk. He leaned down and ran his nose from the crook of her neck up to her ear. “Such a waste though.”

“Fuck. Off,” she grit out.

He pulled far enough back to look her in the eyes. That smirk still rested on his face. “Oh, yeah?”

She swallowed. He had that look in his eyes. She knew that look. _No, no, no_.

“Little bitch.” He switched his hand to her hair and yanked her head back. She gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth and pressed a sloppy kiss against it, his tongue a hot and foreign weight in her mouth. She pushed against his chest with both hands. He didn’t budge. Instead, he pressed her flush between himself and the wall. She felt his hardness against her leg and gagged.

 _Not again, not again_.

He pressed the gun to her temple and stopped kissing her for a moment. “Now listen, don’t struggle too much, or I’ll drag your death out long and hard as my friends take turns fucking you.”

Just like that, the cool grip of fear disappeared, leaving her body languid and empty. Anger replaced it, heavy and explosive, coiling her every muscle.

She gripped his wrist and twisted it until the gun slipped out. He barely had a moment to call out before the gun was in her other, expectant hand. They locked eyes for one beat before she shot him in the temple. The other three shouted out and began scrambling for their weapons as their leader slumped at her feet. She shot the sour faced one next, right between the eyes, then the silent one. The lecherous one barely had his gun pulled when she kicked it from his hands. She leveled her gun right between his eyes, which were blown wide open.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

Jane activated her omni-blade and clenched her fist around the orange weight of it. “Fuck you.” She swiped a clean, red line across his throat. Red sprayed across her face and chest. He sputtered and clutched at it to no avail. She backed up and watched him collapse, a useless pile of meat into a pool of his own blood.

When she turned around, the other three were standing there. They’d come back. And now they gaped at her where she stood; gun in one hand, blade in the other, and four dead men at her feet.

“What–” Hack’s voice seemed to quit before the rest of his question formed. Flex hadn’t torn his eyes away from her.

A glance down at herself showed the full massacre of her appearance. She swallowed and stowed her gun, let her omni-blade disappear again. She looked up at them again and pursed her lips.

Finch stepped forward first, glancing down the hallway briefly. There were no oncoming sounds, now resounding alarms. They were alone. He looked at her again. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He nodded and turned to the others. “Search the bodies. Take anything useful.” When they were done he nodded again. “Let’s go.”

Jane followed Finch in silence, while Hack and Flex stayed at her heels. A new tension coiled in her gut. What were they thinking? Why wouldn’t Hack look at her? Why couldn’t Flex _stop_? What was Finch planning? The racing thoughts faded when the cool night air hit her face. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and felt her shoulders relax.

Flex put his heavy hand on her shoulder. She fought the urge to flinch and merely looked up at him. He gave her a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

A shaky smile broke across her face. She felt such a sudden and complete wave of relief that she nearly cried right there. “Yeah, me too.”

The tension left them all and was replaced by smiles and congratulatory pats on her shoulder and back. Jane couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease.

 

When they got back to the base, the news had already hit the local outlets.

“Again?”  Brains screeched, marching toward them before they’d even fully stepped over the threshold.

“Does this happen a lot?” Jane whispered to Hack. He nodded and pretended to be very interested in his bag.

“You knew there was a chance that–”

“Bullshit.” She got in Finch’s face. “You weren’t careful enough. Look at this.” She held up a datapad that displayed a news article. The title flashed flamboyantly across the screen: ‘Calamity Strikes Notorious Venom Gang.’ “What the fuck happened in there?”

“They attacked me,” Jane cut in.

Brains’ face screwed up in the center, like she’d tasted something sour. Jane could feel a rebuke coming, and just when she braced herself for it, Brains turned back to Finch. “I’m implementing more trainings. No exceptions,” she spat out. She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she turned on her heel and marched back to her bench.

“Well,” Hack huffed out after one tense minute. He dropped his bag with a thud and grinned at her. “We know what to call you now.”

Jane frowned at him. “What?”

“Calamity.”

They all made statements of agreement, save for Brains, who was still decidedly _not_ looking at them.

“What do you think?” Finch asked her.

Calamity: An event causing sudden damage or distress. A living disaster. “I like it.” She leveled a smirk at Hack. “But it’s kind of a mouthful.”

“Cal for short then,” he said with smile as he tossed his stuff into his locker.

“Perfect!” Finch grinned. The others whooped and hollered; Brains even turned to give her a small nod while Matches hugged her. “Then it’s settled. Come on. I’ll show you where you can bunk.” She followed him into a hallway leading back to what she could only assume was a living area.

He leaned in close while they walked. “Welcome to the Reds, Cal.”

 _Cal. That’s going to take getting used to_. She blushed and let her eyes dart away from his, away from that strange glint in his eyes. “Thanks.”

“This way.”

His voice was light with humor. She let the tension in her shoulders drop and looked back at him again to give him a small smile. He placed his hand at the small of her back, feather-light and barely there. Almost comforting.

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for reading, you angelic human of goodness! You are bright and brilliant and I love you ^_^
> 
> Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated ^_^


	2. To Uncover

**Three Years Later**

Cal bristled against the wind that bit at her face. She leaned into the optic scan and cursed the point five seconds it took for the scan to complete and the door click. She shoved the door open and shook off the snow that had gathered on her hat and shoulders, teeth chattering all the while.

“Oi! Not on my floor!” Monk shouted over his shoulder from where he was finishing up the dishes from breakfast. When he turned her way and registered the look she had stopped mid-movement to give him, his eyes went wide and his face flushed. “Uh, sorry boss. You’re fine.” He turned back to the sink without another word.

She shook her head and hung up her coat. As she walked past him she gave him a good natured shove and half a smirk. The kid beamed and turned back to his work, whistling. Cal made her way down the halls, past her bedroom, past her office, dodging other members, until she reached Finch’s door. She took a deep breath, hand clenched around the knob, and opened it without a knock.

Finch looked up at her and gave her a soft smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. His face was illuminated in orange light from the computer screen. He turned back to it and continued typing. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Her voice came out more clipped than she intended. She cleared it as she sat down at the chair in front of his desk and continued. “What are you working on?”

Finch shrugged and minimized out of it before she could see more than a few shapeless letters. “Nothing much. Tracking Venom and Snakes. There’s also a new one out there calling themselves _The Unseen_.” He chuckled. “They don’t live up to the name.”

She chuckled once and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Damn. Well, just keep me updated so I can let Brains know who to schedule for patrols.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. Discomfort crackled under her skin.

“Right. So, I did come in here for more than just patrols and updates.”

“I kind of figured.” He leaned forward across the desk; still smiling, but an ill-disguised hard gleam in his eyes.

She swallowed. “It’s getting fucking cold out there, Finch. Worse than it’s been before. I don’t think we can just let the orphanages and whatever other shit services there are take care of the kids this time.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “What are the numbers?”

“Well,” she sighed, “that’s what doesn’t make sense. I haven’t seen many. I’ve checked the usual haunts, but nothing so far. It’s really fucking weird.”

He made a non-committal sound and leaned back in his chair. “Could be for the best. We’re a gang, Cal, not a charity. You’re where you are because you know that. We can’t afford any weaknesses right now. We protect ours, and that’s it.”

She bristled at the familiar words, the old and eternal argument. He raised one eyebrow at her, a challenge the same as it always was, but she didn’t rise to the bait, and bit her cheek with the effort it took to resist it. Instead, she stood up and gave him one curt nod before turning to the door.

“Calamity.”

Ice travelled up her spine. She froze, hand on the knob as before, and looked back at him. He moved around the desk and came over to her. His hand snaked around her waist and pulled her close as he pressed a chaste kiss against her lips.

“Happy three year anniversary.” He released her and her body itched where he’d touched it.

“Oh, yeah.” She forced a smile out, hoping to god it looked something akin to warm. “Thanks for remembering.”

“How could I forget?” The question was almost playful. Almost.

Cal forced out a small laugh. “Of course.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m gonna grab some coffee. Want anything?”

He made his way back around the desk and shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

“No problem. See you later.” She moved out the door before he had a chance to respond and blew out a breath.

The walk back into the makeshift kitchen/rec area felt longer and heavier on the return trip. She wanted to wipe at her skin where Finch’s hands had touched her, but resisted the urge. She could shower later. She could be alone later. She could–

The room exploded with cheers and glitter as she rounded the corner. She jumped and instinctively moved into a defensive position. But her heart rate slowed as she took in friendly faces, all beaming and shouting at her.

Matches came up to her first and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. She grinned and forced a cheap, pointed, paper hat onto Cal’s head. “Happy three years, _boss_.”

Cal laughed and pulled the girl into a head lock as she gave her a noogie. “Don’t you start with that bullshit.”

The younger girl squirmed free and fluffed her hair again with a ruffle, though she continued to smile. “You are what you are. You and Finch worked hard to get us here.” The room had gone quiet as everyone stopped to listen. “We just want you to know how much we appreciate it.”

Monk wheeled out a cake that was probably supposed to be in the shape of a three and had a few more pointed areas than it should. Cal covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Monk blushed immediately.

“It was Fox!” He pointed to his left.

The small Asian boy jumped up, looking ready to flatten Monk where he stood. He frowned up at Cal. “No one would help me when I asked,” he grumbled.

“Bullshit,” Ghost called from where she stood on the other side. “I offered to help you _multiple_ times.”

“Yeah,” Fox quipped. “Like anyone would let you near a stove with a ten foot pole.”

“Guys!” Cal raised her hands up to both of them, trying for firmness, but a smirk still crept across her face. They both stopped and gave her their undivided attention. No matter how much time she spent as one of their leaders, she didn’t think she’d ever get used to that. “I love it.” She pulled Matches close for a one armed hug and pressed a kiss to her hair before looking at everyone else, one by one. “Thank you so much, all of you.”

The warmth that permeated the room was enough to make her heart physically ache. All these kids that came from nothing, from whatever shitstorm they’d been through before, and joined the Reds for something better. Something more. It felt like decades had passed since that night when a rag-tag team of kids saved her life. It definitely didn’t feel like she was any kind of leader, and yet they still looked to her, waited to move on her word. Hell, they baked a goddamn cake for her.

“If we’re done with this touchy feely stuff,” Hack cut in, a mischievous smile on his face, “I’m starving.”

Cal rolled her eyes. “Let’s dig in before Hack gets any more hangry.”

Everyone laughed, and followed her order.

 

The days only got colder as time wore on. All her patrols reported no findings of children freezing or already dead. Still, she tossed and turned at night. Memories of her first winter with the Reds flashed before her every time she closed her eyes; four kids, huddled together in an alley for warmth, all dead. She remembered puking. She remembered the heat and instant cold of her tears running down her face. “Nothing we can do for them now. I’ll report them later,” Finch had said. She couldn’t forget his callousness, even now. She rolled onto her back with a grunt and bored a hole into her ceiling.

Grumbling, she rolled out of bed and pulled on her clothes, followed by her boots.

“What are you doing?” Finch mumbled behind her.

“Can’t sleep,” she sighed. “I’m going to get ahead on some work.”

She heard him sigh and felt the bed shift as he settled back into their covers. “Suit yourself.”

Without another word, Cal stood up and made her way to the front door.

 

The air was biting. She shrugged deeper into her coat, adjusting the gun tucked inside as she did so. The city streets offered a low buzz of sound to compete with the crunch and squish of snow under her feet. That was the only benefit of New York in winter; 3am wasn’t actually a bad time to walk through alleys for a chance at some peace and quiet.

She turned onto Jefferson Lane, an alley so small, little more than a bio-bike could navigate it. Incinerators and boxes lined the walls with a thick layer of snow covering them. Even the snow on the ground was mostly undisturbed. She shoved her hands in her pockets and made her way down, peaking into boxes as she passed them.

A few yards ahead of her she saw a rustle of movement. She picked up the pace until she came upon a young girl, no more than ten years old, if that. The girl was reaching into one of the larger boxes, bagging up the things inside it hastily. Cal placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder and she jumped.

“Hey!” She jerked away and stared up at her while clutching the bag to her chest. “I ain’t got nothing!”

Cal held both her hands up and gave the girl a smile. “It’s okay.” The fear didn’t leave the girl’s eyes. “I just wanted to ask you if you needed help. It’s cold out here.”

“No kidding,” the girl said. She shrugged her shoulders, relaxed slightly, but continued to watch Cal’s every move. “Got a home now, though, so I’m fine.”

Cal grinned. “Good. That’s good.” She tucked some loose hair back under her hat and let her hands drop. “Do you know of any other kids that need somewhere to go? I came here to help them, but I can’t find them anywhere.”

“That’s cuz no one’s here. Margo’s takin’ care of ‘em.”

“Margo?” Cal frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”

The girl chewed her lower lip for a moment and looked all around before turning back to her again. “Can you keep a secret?”

Cal nodded, feeling more and more like she’d stepped into the plot of a bad vid.

“Okay. Follow me.”

The girl led her further and further through the city, sometimes in alleys and sometimes on well trafficked streets, until they had begun to make their way into Venom territory.

“Hey, uhh,” Cal started, but the girl silenced her with a glare. She sighed and pulled her toboggan lower on her head. If she was going to traipse through Venom territory with and unknown kid, she was going to do so as inconspicuously as possible.

Over an hour of walking through the unfriendly streets had every one of Cal’s nerves on edge. When the girl finally stopped at a door in a foreign alley, Cal couldn’t help but instinctively adjust so she could access her gun. The girl knocked on the door three times in rapid succession.

A young boy opened the door, maybe thirteen, and his eyes went wide at the sight of Cal. He shot a glare at the girl. “Who the hell is this?”

“She was nice.” The girl smiled at Cal and looked back at the boy. “She wants to help.”

“You know the rules,” he grumbled. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

She raised her chin. “You’re not the boss of me.”

He harrumphed. “We’ll see.”

“I’m taking her to Margo.”

The girl grabbed Cal’s hand and led her past the boy as he gaped, and dragged her through the building. It looked like it was an old apartment complex inside, dating back even as far as the 20th century. Kids openly stared as the girl plowed their path down the hall, and god, there were _so many_ kids; peering out of every doorway and over stair rails. Cal felt a hard lump settle in her throat that she couldn’t swallow through.

At the end of the long hall, the girl pulled her to the left into a large open room, what was probably once a reception area. Now, the windows were covered by thick, black curtains, and the doors were well boarded up. The room itself was filled with furniture: Couches, arm chairs, tables, and more, packed to its brim. There was a fireplace at the far right of the room, large and luminous, impressing a natural, orange warmth onto everything it touched. By the fireplace, a woman was bent over another child and dressing a cut on his cheek.

The young girl dropped Cal’s hand, leaving Cal in the doorway as she made her way toward the woman. “Margo,” she called out.

The woman turned to the girl, a smile already in place. “Tara.” She wrapped her up in a hug and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You have any trouble getting back?”

“No.” Tara grinned and looked at Cal. “I brought a friend.”

The woman looked up at last. Cal watched her tense, her arms tightening on the girl and lips forming a hard line. She felt a rush of blood to her face as this woman studied her. If she recognized her, she gave no tells.

“Tara, take Michael to the kitchen and get yourselves some food. I think Kieran made fresh chicken tonight.”

“Yay!” Tara shouted, none the wiser of the new tension in the room. She grabbed Michael’s hand and yanked him out of his seat. “Come on, before there’s nothing left!”

The old fashioned door closed behind the two children with a small click, leaving the women alone in the room with only the crackle of the fire to break the silence.

“So, should I be pulling out my gun?” the woman asked, her voice hard and unyielding.

Cal tried to relax her stance; exude ease she didn’t feel. “I didn’t come here to cause any trouble.”

“So you say.”

“I’m being honest. Look.” She pulled open her coat slowly to reveal her gun. The other woman tensed and stepped back, but Cal held up her hand. Just as slowly, she pulled the gun out and set it on the coffee table. She rolled up her sleeves and held her hands high. “See?”

The other woman relaxed marginally, keeping her eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

“I was looking for the kids. The girl, Tara, was the only one around. She told me that she was safe, that everyone was safe. I kept asking questions and she told me to follow her.” She shrugged. “So here I am.”

“Oh.” The woman scrunched up her face for moment and then loosened her stance. “Okay.” She let out a small, relieved laugh and pushed some of her blond curls out of her face. “You’ll have to forgive my wariness. You could’ve been an officer, or worse.”

The word ‘worse’ hung in the air, bitter and cold. Cal had a feeling she knew all too well what kind of _worse_ the woman meant.

“I’m Cal.” She approached her and held her hand out. “I’d like to help you here, if you’ll let me.”

“Margo.” She grinned when she shook her hand. The fire danced in her brown eyes. Up close, she could see a small dusting of freckles across her nose and under her eyes, her light brown skin made somehow warmer by their presence.

Cal blushed and swallowed as she pulled her hand back. “Good to meet you,” she said, trying for a smile. “And thank you, for taking care of them. I’m glad someone is.”

Margo smiled and started picking up the med kit supplies she had just used. “I’ve lived here for a while and I know what living on the streets is like. They deserve something better.”

“Yeah.” She helped her gather everything up. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Margo grinned. “Come on. If you’re gonna be around, you need to meet everyone.”

 

It went on like that for a few weeks. Cal would go through her daily routine – runs, hits, trainings, and whatever else fell into her lap – and at night she would go to the orphanage, as she’d come to calling it. Margo had single-handedly rounded up twenty kids from the street when Cal met her, and more kept coming. Every night, the old apartment building grew fuller, and Margo never turned any of them away no matter where they came from.

It was when a kid pulled out a gun at the end of the second week that Cal realized she was in trouble. The young girl was only fourteen and came to them in the dead of night, a runaway from the Venom district. Cal was the one that walked her in and had just begun to get her a plate of food, when Margo walked into the kitchen and all hell broke loose.

“What the fuck?!” the girl shouted, pulling a small antique nine millimeter from her waist band and pointing it right at Margo’s chest. Cal hadn’t even thought to pat her down.

Cal pulled her own gun, a more modern one, and aimed it at the girl’s back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on!” Margo shouted, throwing her hands up at both of them while her eyes darted frantically between the two weapons. “Everyone calm down.”

“Venom _bitch_!” the girl spat. “Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?!”

“It’s not what you think,” Margo said, an edge of panic leaking into her calm tenor.

“You were _there_ ,” she screamed, a sob ripping its way out of her chest. “You _watched_ them.” The gun wavered in her grip.

Cal shot a look at Margo that was filled with questions. Margo didn’t tear her eyes off the girl, her face more filled with guilt and panic than Cal had ever seen.

Margo swallowed. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed out. “I wish there was an explanation, but there isn’t. I wish I could’ve helped you. All of you.” Tears raced down both her cheeks and plummeted to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

For a terrible moment the room was filled only with the girl’s ragged breathing and Margo’s silent shaking and Cal couldn’t think past _put it down put it down put it_ –

The girl dropped her gun. Her body followed, like the string that held her up was severed. She barely hit the floor before Margo was there, engulfing her in an embrace and sharing her sobs, sharing her sorrow.

Later, when the girl was tucked in and asleep on the couch by the fire, Cal watched Margo transform. She got up gently, placed the girl’s head onto the cushion with a delicacy usually reserved for glass. But when she straightened and locked eyes with Cal, there was anything but gentleness there.

“What happened?” Cal asked later as they finished cleaning up while the children slept, unable to help herself.

“It doesn’t matter now.” She sighed. “She got out. She’s safe here.”

Cal understood that too well. The hardness in Margo’s gaze as she stared at her, daring her to press further, was a mirror of her own. It made something warm and unfamiliar twist in her chest.

Some things were better left unsaid.

The warm, unfamiliar feeling only got worse with time. Margo held the children when they were hurt until they felt soothed. Margo talked them through their flashbacks, through their nightmares, no matter what time or how often they happened. Margo always had a smile for everyone, a positive word to give them, an embrace after a hard day’s work, a proud kiss on the head.

And Cal thought that food and shelter were important.

As winter wore on, Cal found herself drawn to the orphanage more and more. She came earlier in the evening, and stayed well into the early morning hours. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t had more than five hours of sleep in a night in months. It didn’t matter that her friends were asking her where she was all the time, and what could be so goddamn important. _Nothing is more important than this._ It didn’t matter what came next, not really.

Margo was…good. Margo helped. Margo cared. The kids were safe and happy and _loved_. She couldn’t keep herself away, even if she wanted to.

Six weeks into winter and six weeks into Cal helping with the orphanage, she had become accustomed to a routine: Arrive around seven, help with dinner, help with final chores, get them into bed, plan with Margo for whatever they needed to do, grab a nap, and head back. In her whole six weeks, an unheard of regulatory pattern, Margo had always been there to answer the door.

Six weeks in and counting, and this time, Tara answered the coded knock, tears streaming down her face.

“Mi–miss Margo isn’t here,” she sobbed.

“What?” Cal swept in the door, pulling it shut behind herself quickly while pulling Tara close with her other arm. “What are you talking about?”

“Sh–she went to get more food. She told us she’d be back by four but she didn’t come.” More children gathered as she spoke – at the stairs, in the hall, leaning out of doorways, and all with huge, terrified eyes. “She’s never been late before.” She burst into a fresh bout of tears. Cal clutched her to her chest and pressed a kiss to her head.

“Hey, shh,” she whispered into her hair. “It’s all gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

 _It’s not okay. This is not fucking okay_. Cal went about the routine as best she could. The older ones helped. They worked together to console and reassure the little ones, but the older ones knew better, and when they looked to her for answers, for reassurance, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to them.

When everyone had gone to sleep, Cal set up a stool in the hall and watched the door. She waited. If anyone was coming for her kids, they weren’t getting that far without a fight. If Margo was coming back, she would be waiting.

It was 2300 when the coded knock resounded against the door. She stood from her seat and pulled her gun as she approached it. Even as her hand shook when she gripped the handle, she blew out a breath, gun aimed where an adult’s head would be, and opened the door.

“Margo!” She puffed out a sigh of relief and frowned as she lowered her gun. “What happened to you? What the fuck are you wearing?”

She gasped as the light inside illuminated her more fully. Margo’s blond curls fell in disarray over her face, but they didn’t hide the swollen, purple bruise on her left cheek. She wore a coat, but it couldn’t protect her from the bitter snow and wind when she was wearing a white spring dress made only of cotton. Her black flats barely even counted as shoes and her ankles and knees had turned a bruising purple from the exposure, nearly matching her lips, which were chapped and held a blueish hue.

“Mar,” she breathed out. Her hands shook as she reached out to her. They locked eyes and Margo’s filled with tears. Cal watched as the woman’s face crumpled as she threw herself into her arms. Cal’s own arms floated uselessly in the air for a moment before she pulled the girl tight against her.

Margo cried for a long time. Cal felt the dampness on her shoulder and didn’t loosen her grip. She smoothed Margo’s hair back while murmuring assurances and promises of safety. The woman’s whole body shook with her sobs. Cal wondered if the smiling, kind girl she’d come to know would ever come back, or if she’d been ripped away in the night.

After who-knew how long, Margo’s sobs quieted and left her body still. The girl pulled back a few inches from her, still keeping her arms around her neck. “I’m sorry.”

Cal shook her head, cutting her off. “Don’t be. I don’t mind.”

A ghost of a smile flashed across her face before it vanished again. “Thank you. Really.” She leaned in and placed a soft, chaste kiss against Cal’s cheek. When she pulled back again, she wore a genuine smile, even if it was small.

Cal felt her face grow hot. _Not now, not now_. She focused in on Margo’s face, brushed her thumb across the bruise while pushing her hair back in the same motion, and noticed small cuts scraping the surface of the abrasion. Her face grew hot again, for an entirely different reason, but she bit her tongue. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She pulled Margo by the hand down the hall and led her into the living room. She sat down on the couch by fireplace while Cal grabbed the med kit in the cabinet.

Cal sat across from her and pulled out an adhesive and omnigel. “Okay,” she sighed, facing her with items in each hand. “Hold your hair back for me.”

She complied, and Cal squeezed the small pack of omnigel onto her finger and proceeded to smooth it across the bruise slowly. She could feel Margo’s eyes on her, watching her hands and her face. She took small breaths and tried to focus. Once the gel was spread evenly, she applied the adhesive, which instantly shifted to become the same light brown shade of Margo’s skin and disappear from view.

“Good as gold.” Cal smiled and wiped the left-over gel on her jeans while putting the rest away. “You should take off your coat. You’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Margo shrugged out of it and set it on the back of the couch while Cal put up the first aid kit. When Cal turned back, a new bout of anger flooded her face. Margo blushed under the scrutiny and tucked her hair behind her ear while rubbing the other hand on her bare arm. But even her movements couldn’t hide the matching hand shaped bruises on both her biceps. Cal sat down next to her, gently, and pulled away both of the girl’s hands so she could get a fuller view of the marks. She swallowed back against the bile in her throat and took Margo’s hands into her own.

“What happened to you?”

Two tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she gave her a mirthless smile. “It’s a long story.” She shot her a loaded look. “We’ve both done a lot to keep each other in the dark.”

Cal’s mouth went dry. Never once had Margo asked her who she was, where she had come from, or even why she was so hell bent on helping her. She just let her be. Cal had offered her the same anonymity. She knew as well as the kids did that Margo disappeared in the daylight just like she did. Whatever she had to get back to, she didn’t want it following her any more than Cal had wanted her own shit to follow them.

But that wasn’t an option now.

“We can both stop pretending to be naïve,” Cal said, giving her hands a squeeze.

Margo nodded. “Okay.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, but the rebellious curls immediately sprung free. She ignored them and stared at the wall as she spoke. “Are you familiar with the gang activity in the city?”

Cal sucked on the inside of her cheek and nodded. “You could say that.”

Margo smirked; a humorless expression that warned of all the secrets it held under the surface. “Right. So you know what territory we’re in then?”

Cal nodded.

“Good.” The girl sighed with her whole body and rolled her head toward her. “You remember when Bee got here a few weeks ago and freaked out?”

“Yeah.”

“And called me ‘Venom bitch’?”

Cal didn’t miss the ire in the woman’s voice. “I remember.”

Margo swallowed and finally met her gaze. “She wasn’t lying.”

Cal tightened her grip. She couldn’t help it. “What do you mean?”

“I–” She swallowed and let go of one of Cal’s hands, resting her own on the back of the small couch. “Sorry, uh, Venom is one of the worst gangs in New York. They’re the only gang that deals in the slave trade. Something I’m sure you’re already familiar with.” Cal nodded, and she continued. “What they keep hidden, though, that’s the dark shit.”

“What do you mean?”

She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Every few weeks, batarian slavers send…shipments. Girls from the colonies, ones that would be hard to track down. In exchange, Venom pays or trades out girls from the city or other places they’ve bought them from. But whenever there’s a new shipment _to_ them, certain Venom members like to ‘christen’ them,” Her voice cracked on the word, hard and jagged, “communally. And if you’re not partaking, then you’re watching.”

“Y-you mean Bee–?” Cal’s voice faltered and died in her throat.

“It happened to her a week before she came here,” she whispered, voice fraying.

Cal’s free hand flew over her mouth as tears stung at the corners of her eyes. “Jesus, fuck.” She ran a hand over her face and focused again on Margo with renewed clarity as the reality of the situation reared its ugly head. “Then – wait – how do you –?”

“Seamus is the leader; he organizes every deal, every run. I’ve belonged to him since I was shipped four years ago.”

The wind left Cal’s lungs. “But that would mean–”

“I was fourteen at the time.”

Cal gagged and covered her mouth again. “Oh, Margo.” She couldn’t help herself: She reached out and cradled her face in her hand. The girl leaned into the touch, tears falling from her eyes when she closed them. “Why did you stay?”

Margo chuckled, and it was the furthest from the real thing she’d ever heard. “I couldn’t leave the others. After a while, I just started taking care of them. Seamus mocked me, _freed_ me, and laughed when I stayed. But they – I couldn’t just –” A sob ripped through her. She hunched inward and Cal wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight.

“I’m so sorry.” Cal was surprised that her voice matched Margo’s; ripped apart and bleeding into the space between them. It was then that she realized she was crying too. When did she start crying? “I’m so sorry. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that for so long Cal imagined time itself had stopped, freezing them in the protective enclosure of each other’s arms; hand in hand, foreheads pressed together, bathed in warm firelight.

Margo broke it first. She adjusted herself and pressed a warm kiss to Cal’s forehead. Cal tried to stop her eyes from going wide – tried to still her automatic response – but it didn’t help, and Margo ignored it anyway. She pulled back only a few inches, and she was smiling, and closer than before.

“You know, when I pictured the notorious legend of Calamity Smith, the girl that slaughtered four men on her own as she ran away with their gold, I always pictured you older than me.”

Cal felt the color drain from her face. “What? You know about that?”

Margo gave her a sardonic smile. “I wouldn’t let you near _them_ if I didn’t know everything about you.”

“Oh.” She sucked on the inside of her cheek, biding time. Margo really was sitting _very_ close. “I didn’t know that Venom knew anything about me.”

“Oh, they do.” Margo grinned. “Just enough to scare them. I always liked that.” She tucked Cal’s hair behind her ear and chuckled. “I,” she laughed again, “this is so dumb, but I used to dream you’d break us all out, destroying everything Venom ever did. So silly,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. Even wearing the smile, Cal could still hear the sharp edge of truth in the words.

“I would have,” Cal said, so sudden it startled the smile off Margo’s face. “If I’d known about you all, I would have.”

Margo’s smile came back watery and more real than the ones before. “It’s okay. You _didn’t_ know.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long moment of silence while they stared at their hands, still clasped together.

“Is it all true?” she whispered, finally. “This legend of Calamity?”

A hard smile formed on Cal’s lips. She traced circles on the top of the girl’s hand, but didn’t meet her eyes. “Whatever your intel is, I’m sure it’s good.”

“Cal…”

“Don’t.” Her throat felt tight. Margo was so _close_ and she felt…too many things. Complicated things. Things she didn’t want to deal with. She tried to pull her hand back, but Margo kept her grip, rooted her in place with that undefinable look in her eyes.

“What would you do if none of it mattered?” Margo whispered. Cal could feel her soft breath float across her face.

Cal met her eyes finally. “What do you mean?”

Margo pressed her mouth into a dispassionate line. “If there were no Reds, no Venom.” She visibly swallowed. “No Finch.”

She blew out a resigned sigh; leaned her forehead against the other woman’s. “It _does_ matter, Mar.”

She tipped Cal’s chin so they were eye to eye, noses a hair’s breadth from touching. “What if it didn’t?”

Cal licked her lips. Her mind raced against impulse, throwing every ounce of logic it had at the frantic pounding of her heart, at the heat that flushed through every inch of her. She opened her mouth to speak, she thought, but her voice didn’t come. Instead, she leaned closer, until their breath mixed. Margo tipped Cal’s head again, the smallest nudge of pressure, easy enough to ignore if she’d wanted to.

But she didn’t. She pressed her lips her Margo’s, tentative and gentle, and she was so _warm._ She tightened her arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her closer. Margo opened her mouth further, traced her tongue over the edge of Cal’s bottom lip. Cal gladly granted her entrance, letting both their hungry tongues explore and devour everything in their path.

Cal couldn’t really believe that Margo’s return had led to this, had led to Margo’s hands running over her body and peppering her with kisses as delicate as they were intense, but she knew she would let it go on as long as she could, no matter the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Cal is not a good person. She's a not good person, in a shitty situation. That said, I love these precious bbys <3
> 
> FABULOUS art by the ever amazing [zanephiri](http://zanephiri.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. They were so lovely to work with when I commissioned this piece a thousand years agoooo. ^_^
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. You are far more than I deserve, and I hope your life is treating you well <3 Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated :D


	3. A Guide

“What the fuck is this?”

Cal jumped as a stack of datapads clunked onto her desk and scattered across the surface. Matches stood over her, arms crossed and glowering.

“What the fuck is what?” Cal shot back.

Matches gave her an exaggerated eye roll before gesturing to the datapads with a dramatic twirl. “The inventory. The trainings. The patrols. Everything’s outta whack. Hack and I spent over an hour trying to fix it to keep Brains from coming in here and wringing your neck.”

“Ah.” She sighed and ran a hand over her face. “Sorry about that. Guess my head’s not in it today.”

“Today?” Matches scoffed. “Boss, it’s been like this for three months. Not this bad, and usually Hack or I’ve been able to catch it, but this is ridiculous. And not like you.”

“I know, I know.”

“Alright. So what the fuck is going on with you?”

Cal blew out a breath and shot her best glare up at her. “Is it really your business?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matches sighed. “Really? I know you’re like second in command or whatever, but don’t pull the intimidation bullshit with me. I deserve better than that.”

She rubbed her temples. “Alright, I get it. Is there any chance you can just drop it? I’ll get better.”

“Not a chance, boss. I’m not leaving here until you fess up.”

“And if I _force_ you to leave?”

“I’ll go to Finch.” Matches raised one, challenging eyebrow.

Cal groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “ _Fine_. Listen, I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you’ve got to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the day.”

She blinked a few times. “Oh. I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get you to fess up.”

Cal let out a huff from her nose. “Keep that shit up and–”

“Okay, I get it!” she said, raising both hands.

“Good.” Cal leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I’ll come get you later tonight, okay? After everyone else has gone to bed.”

The girl frowned. “Why?”

“You’ll find out,” she stated, bone dry. “And Mat, don’t talk to anyone about this. Even Hack. This is between you and me, or we’re done. I mean it.”

She scowled. “No need for threats boss.” She let out a smirk as she turned for the door. “I got your back!”

Cal smiled. _God, I hope that’s true_.

 

“You do know it’s _freezing_ out here right? And that we’re, you know, in Venom territory?”

“I told you to bring a heavier coat.”

Matches glared at her. “Fuck you.”

After a few more minutes walking through back alleys, they arrived at the door. Cal held up a finger to Matches, who had opened her mouth to say something obnoxious, and rapped a pattern against the door.

Silence.

“Umm…”

“Shut up,” Cal snapped. She rapped out the pattern again, louder this time. _Too loud_.

More silence.

“Boss.”

“Shut. Up,” she hissed.

She pulled out her gun and jerked her head for Matches to do the same. The girl instantly transformed before her eyes, replacing her annoyed frown with a look of fierce determination. Cal used her free hand to reveal the hidden keypass. She typed in the numbers without hesitation, though she’d never had need of them before. The tell-tale click sounded and she took a deep breath, gun raised and hand on the door.

They rushed the door and immediately spun in opposite directions, scanning doorways and stairwells for danger in the shadows. The stillness that met them made Cal’s blood run cold. Her eyes finally fell back onto the hall, and as she began her slow trek toward the kitchen and living room she faltered.

“Ben.”

“What?”

Cal ran to the prone boy at the head of the hall with Matches close at her heels. She shouldn’t have, but she dropped her gun as she sunk to the floor and pulled the boy into her lap.

“Ben,” she choked out, tapping his cheek lightly. His eyes and mouth were open, staring in frozen awe at the ceiling. “Ben, come on, Ben.”

“He’s gone.”

Cal looked at the gaping hole in the boy’s stomach where the blood had already coagulated into his clothes, into the floor. Her breath came out in raspy spurts. “No. No, no, no.” She turned back to his face and began slapping it. “Ben, _come on_. Wake up!”

“Cal!” Matches jerked her shoulder back until she was forced to look away from the boy. “Cal, he’s _gone_. It’s too late.”

“He was only twelve,” she sobbed. She pulled his eyelids down, slowly. A gun lay a few feet away from him, his frozen hand inclined toward it. “Oh, god.”

“What is it?”

“He was trying to fight.” Cal looked back up at her friend. “We have to search the building.”

           

By the end of the search, Cal had no tears left to shed. At first, sobs wracked through her as they discovered more bodies, more boys. All the older boys. She couldn’t breathe through the stench of eezo and gunpowder mixed with their blood. She couldn’t breathe through the memories of their lives, of their hopes, of their wildest dreams; only for them to be slaughtered like animals. Matches couldn’t stop gagging, her experiences over their years with the Reds apparently having done nothing to harden her.

_It’s just something about dead kids…_

“What happened here?” she asked, her voice akin to sandpaper.

“I don’t know yet.”

But by the tenth boy ( _Cain Ruggles, 14_ ) she grew desperate. Furious. A white hot tension built in her bones with every new room. _No girls. No Margo. No no no_. Until they finally reached the roof. No one ever went there, but Cal couldn’t leave any stone unturned, couldn’t let any lingering vestiges of hope survive.

Nothing. Empty. Not even a body.

“What are you looking for?”

“My friend.” Cal’s voice was empty of the ragged grief it held on the first floor. Now it held cold clarity. “But she’s not here. None of the girls. None of the young ones.” She turned to Matches. “They took them.”

“They? Who are you talking about?”

“Venom.” She spat the word out as if she could taste its namesake. “They’ve taken all of them.”

“Shit.” Matches held her gun to ground and clutched her forehead with her free hand. “You’ve _got_ to be shitting me, boss.”

“I’m not. There were over fifty orphans here, plus the woman who cared for them. We only found fifteen bodies.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Cal worried her lip. “Look, I didn’t bring you here for this. I,” she took a shuddering breath, “I wanted you to meet the kids. I wanted you to meet Margo. Because this is what I’ve been doing. We were… _helping_. And now–” Her voice fell off at the edge, clogged somewhere between her racing heart and the bile lodged in her throat. She took another breath and swallowed all of it. “I’m going after them, Mat. I’m not going to ask you to come. I know this isn’t your fight, but they’re just kids. All of them. And I’m not leaving them to those bastards’ whims.” Cal checked her gun and holstered it to fire up her tool. “So go on and head back to base, and if you don’t hear from me, don’t come looking.”

She started walking back toward the stairs, but as soon as she made to pass the girl, she was yanked backward, staring Matches eye to eye.

“You’re fucking crazy for doing this,” she stated, sounding pissed as all hell. “But you’re even crazier if you think I’m letting you do this alone.”

Cal bit the inside of her lip and fought back the sting in her eyes. “Fine. Then we gotta go. _Now_.”

She starting marching down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry, with Matches hot on her tail. At the bottom, the girl grabbed her arm again, stopping her before they were out the door.

“Hey, wait. What about the kids here? The bodies?”

Cal surveyed the building, looked from the body at the end of the hall, to the exit, and back to Matches. “We don’t have time. Burn it. Burn it all.”

For the first time since arriving, Matches smiled; a face-eating, wolfish grin. “Gladly.” She kneeled down and began pulling the things she needed out of her pack. “And hey, call Hack and Flex. They can help us.”

Cal frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” She shoved them both out the door and lit her incendiary enhancer. “I’ll send them the NavPoint to meet up.” She turned to the building and back to Cal. “Ready to run?”

And Cal smiled, despite herself. “You bet your ass I am.”

She threw it into the door and they sprinted, with the sound of fire at their heels.

 

The Venom base was exactly as Cal remembered it; low lit, too hot, and smelling of stale beer and cheap cigarettes. She crinkled her nose as she and Matches made their way further along the halls, with Flex and Hack trailing close behind. The burning building had served more than one purpose it seemed; seven different hallways into the hellhole and not a single Venom member yet. It was almost too lucky to believe.

Luck only served to create knots in Cal’s shoulders and tightness in her chest.

“Where are these kids anyway?” Hack asked, whispering through their comm.

“I don’t know,” she hissed. “But we’ll find them.”

Cal tried not to think of how incredibly stupid this was. Because it was incredibly stupid. They didn’t have a map. They didn’t have a plan. They didn’t know how many enemies they might face. And they only had themselves, with no backup and no one with any knowledge of where they were. And she’d dragged her friends into it, into this fucking mess, that she created. Sure, there was no way to know for certain that she was the root of any issue. Margo was running an orphanage without Seamus’ knowledge after all. But that needling feeling at the back of her neck wouldn’t leave her alone. _You did this to them. They’re going to die because of you._

Half an hour into their trek, Cal felt near nauseous with her nervous energy. They still hadn’t seen anyone from Venom and there was no sign of the kids and god only knew what –

“Did you hear that?” Flex whispered.

Cal held up her hand and they all froze. As they stilled, she could hear the muffled sound of someone crying.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and looked them each in the eye. “Keep moving, but don’t rush. No mistakes if we can help it.”

They all nodded and began to move in sync toward the sound. The closer they got, the clearer it became. It sounded like a young girl, alone. Cal could barely breathe through the lump in her throat. When they reached the door, she raised her gun and took one steadying breath as she palmed the opening device in the center.

Inside, four men guarded a group of twenty or so kids. They barely had time to shout before Cal shot one in the head, firing in sync with the shots of the others. _Quick. More than they deserve_. The bodies slumped to the floor all at once, causing the children to shout and sob. She holstered her gun immediately and approached them.

They flinched away. Cal swallowed back against that sting and held up her hands as she got closer to the nearest one.

“Alli, it’s me.” The girl’s eyes went wide. She was only twelve, cradling two younger girls close to her chest. “I’m here to get you out of here.”

Alli only stared at her in silence for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Cal choked out, barely louder than a breath.

The girl sobbed and hugged the girls tighter. “Thank you.”

Cal finally got close enough to pull them into a tight hug. “It’s okay.” Her own tears spilled out. She hadn’t even realized they were building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

After a few shaky, weepy seconds, she collected herself and pulled back to look Alli in the eye. “Where are the others?”

Alli hiccuped a sob. “The others are… are…” Sobs wracked through her, cutting her off.

Cal ran a hand over the girl’s cheek. “Hey, hey, shh. Never mind, never mind. Okay?” Alli nodded, still sniffling and gasping for steadier breath. “Where’s Margo?”

Alli’s eyes went impossibly wider. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. No tears fell. Cal felt her blood run cold.

“She’s in the back. Tara’s with her.” It was one of the younger girls that Alli clung to who had spoken. _Nila Bowen, 8_. Cal nodded and stood up.

The children parted for her all at once, making a clear path straight back. As she began to move, she recalled on old earth myth, of seas parting at the wave of a single man’s hand. But seeing the children part for her this way, so singular in their comprehension and silence, sent a chill up her spine.

At the back, Tara leaned over woman that Cal barely recognized. They’d cut her hair so it was mere inches long and uneven in its length, the once luscious curls now damp with blood and sweat. Tara was cleaning a gash in her forehead, which was the least of her injuries there. One eye was completely swollen shut. The rest of her face was marred in deep blues and purples. Her t-shirt and jeans were filthy, like she’d been tossed around in the dirt, and every inch of exposed skin held some cut or bruise. And Margo hadn’t moved.

Cal collapsed next to her with a gasp. She made to clutch her hand, when Tara slapped it away and glared at her.

“It’s broken. You’ll make it worse.”

Cal swallowed back the bile in her throat and nodded. She quickly pulled out the omnigel she’d brought and passed it to the young girl. “Here. Do what you can with that. She needs to wake up so we can get you all out of here.”

Tara frowned. “But –”

“No buts,” she said, shaking her head. “If she can’t walk, we can’t move her safely, and we have to get out of here as soon as possible.” She cupped the girl’s face. “Just do your best.”

Tara’s eyes watered, but she nodded and went to work. Cal turned back to Margo’s still face and smoothed a chunk of the newly chopped hair back. Tears clouded her vision. She’d cried more in the last twenty four hours than she had in the last three years. _Hold it together woman, Jesus_. She bit her lip and waited.

The longest minute of her life passed before Margo’s good eye fluttered open.

“Hey,” she whispered, her treacherous tears finally spilling over again. “Hey, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Margo focused on her and opened her mouth. Her lips cracked and bled with the effort, drawing a whimper out of her, the first sound she’d made yet.

“Don’t try to talk. Here.” She pulled a bottle of water out of her pack and lifted it to the woman’s lips. “There you go, that’s it.”

Margo forced it away after a moment. “Cal…” He voice was ragged, a shell of its normal, strong tenor.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered again. “Listen, we have to leave and we don’t have much time. Can you try to walk?”

Her tongue flitted out over her still-bleeding lips as she nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna help you up. Tara, grab her other arm.” Together, they hoisted her up as delicately as they could. Margo still winced more than Cal had hoped, but once she was fully upright, Tara let go while Cal kept a hold on her right arm. She looked to Margo, who nodded, and turned to her friends. “Alright. Tara, before we go, where are the others? We’ll need to get them next.”

Tara pursed her lips and clenched her fists. “They – they took them. They’re already gone.”

Cal inhaled sharply through her nose and surveyed the gaggle of young girls and boys again. Too many faces missing. Too many children sent to a fate worse than death.

“Let’s move out,” she said, her voice low and full of steel and fire. “Tara, keep an eye on the kids. Flex, watch our rear. Hack, Matches, take the point.”

They nodded and, as one, fell into step as they began moving. Their shuffle through the halls was louder than before, but still far quieter than Cal had hoped, given they were escorting twenty five plus children. _That’s the fear. No time for tears or panic when there’s a way out_. She shook her head once and bit her tongue until she tasted blood, tried to focus on the task at hand. Get her people to safety. She didn’t have time to dwell on her sudden desire to kill every vicious bastard in the building.

Before long, they were nearing their exit, a little-used door at the back of the building. Cal tightened her grip on Margo as she fired up her comm. “Fox, Ghost; we’re ready for extract.”

“Loud and clear,” Ghost replied in her ear. “Dropping in ten.”

Cal sighed, relief washing through her with such exuberance she felt like running. They were in sight of the door. She could see the street on the outside, hear the _zzrrsh_ of the shuttles as they lowered for them, feel the heat of –

A shot rang out, too loud in the tiny hall. Cal’s head whipped around on instinct. Flex gripped his shoulder and shouted, stumbling forward. Seamus stood at the end of the hall with his gun raised, as ugly as every wanted poster painted him, flanked by his men; so many she couldn’t count, not in the tight space. He smirked as her eyes leveled on his.

Just then, she heard the tell-tale _clunk_ as the shuttles settled outside of the doors. She shot a look at Matches and Hack at the front, who looked as panicked as she felt. Frozen.

“Run!” she screamed.

The next moments passed in chaos. Cal dragged Margo along, despite her cries of pain, while firing shots over her shoulder. Tara stood at the door ushering out the children while trying to shield them from the cross-fire, and in a few quick bursts, Cal was there too. She passed Margo off and ducked into cover behind a crate. She peaked around its edge to see Flex leaning behind a crate of his own, firing his gun and exhausting his grenades into the onslaught.

“Get out of there!” she shouted.

If he heard her, he gave her no reaction. He threw out Brains’ most recent prototype drone. Panic rose in her chest as she watched the device skitter and explode as it was meant to. It barely fazed them. She let out rapid fire until her gun screamed at her from overheating. She leaned back behind the cover again, panting, and counted down the eternal seconds. As soon as the gun thrummed against her fingers, she leaned out again. Just as she fired the first few rounds, she watched as the drone, Flex’s single distraction, finally fell, dissipating into useless pixels just as he leaned out of cover to fire.

“ _Get down_!”

The shot hit him directly in the chest, just off center from his heart. She’d never heard another human shout with more agony in her life. He collapsed, mercifully, behind his cover, his gun skittering out of his grip. He grabbed at the hole in his chest, already cauterized from the heat of the blast, but definitely, significantly, empty. He locked eyes with her from his prone position, his expression tortured, mangling his normally warm features.

His face was a mirror. Everything that swirled just beneath her own surface.

“Go,” he mouthed. He lifted shaky fingers to the edge of the hole and puked. When he came up for air, gasping, gulping, his eyes fluttered for a moment before his body went limp.

At the lack of fire, Seamus and his men began to peak out of their own shot-ridden covers, and moved slowly forward.

_No._

A dam burst inside her chest, swelling and swirling until it travelled, splitting itself up her spine to the base of her neck and pooling deep in her gut. Her breath grew heavier as every muscle in her body tensed. Time itself filtered through her senses in slow motion, bringing everything about her surroundings to the forefront of her mind in full stereo.

_Can’t leave him behind._

The coiling energy in her gut split open and cerulean blue rippled over her body. She let out a shout, and felt the air be sucked out of her lungs as she surged forward the twenty feet to Flex’s position. She gasped and stumbled on her land. _What the fuck is happening? What the_ fuck _is happening?!_ Seamus locked eyes with her, inches away when he hadn’t been before, and looking as surprised as she felt. Blue still rippled and pulsed over her.

He smirked and raised his gun. She threw her hands up, for no reason other than instinct, and felt a warm jolt race up her arms, bringing gooseflesh to the surface. A shield appeared over them both, ricocheting his shots back on his own men.

“Fuck!” he shouted, lowering his arm where a shot had singed it.

Cal ducked. There was only three feet and a shot-to-hell crate separating them from ten or more men, and it wouldn’t take them long to recover from a few stray bullets. “Ghost!” she shouted into her comms.

“Boss, get out here!”

“No! Flex is down. I need your biotics. Get to the door.”

“Fucking hell.”

She looped her arms underneath Flex’s arm pits. The dark energy began its slow tightening between her neck and her gut. She swallowed in a deep breath. On her exhale, Seamus peered around the crate, gun already raised.

“Charging!”

The air left her lungs again as the dark energy dragged them backward. Her arms screamed in protest but she kept her grip firm. She hit the ground with a shout, landing just a foot from the door. Ghost stood there gaping, eyes fixed on the hole in Flex’s chest.

“Lift him out of here!”

More shots rang through the air. Cal flung a hand up, creating a small, wavering shield, but it was enough. They made their way out the door as quickly as possible, every shot weakening the barrier.

“Fox’s shuttle,” she ordered. She could see sweat pooling at the girl’s forehead.

Ghost set him down gently. As soon as she was done she threw a glowing, biotic orb that Cal couldn’t recognize at the exit. Cal leapt into Fox’s shuttle and slammed the door shut. She heard Ghost’s shuttle do the same seconds after. A glance at the door showed a few wayward Venom members floating in circles surrounding the orb, simultaneously blocking the exit and rendering them useless.

“Go, go, go!”

Fox took off without another word. Cal ran to the rear window in time to see Ghost begin lifting off as well. She breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the back door, still watching. Ghost smiled and gave her a thumbs up. She allowed herself her own weak smile and raised her thumb in the air.

_BOOM._

The shuttle exploded in a burst of fire and black smoke. Even with their own engines to drown out the noise, the tearing scream of metal being ripped apart echoed into their shuttle. The debris fell to the earth, unrecognizable from what it had been moments ago.

“No!” she screamed, pounding a fist against the window.

Seamus stood beneath them with a small hoard of men at his back. He held some sort of strange gun, larger and more alien than any she’d seen. He didn’t aim for them as they soared up and out of whatever range it held.

“Oh, god,” she breathed out. She took a few shaky steps back as her hand flew to her mouth.

“What just happened?” Fox shouted over his shoulder.

“They – they –” she couldn’t catch her breath.

Hack darted up to the window. His eyes went wide as he recognized the smoking black dot in the distance. “Fuck.”

“Jesus – what the fuck just happened?!” Fox screamed.

“They’re dead,” Cal breathed out. She clutched her chest and rounded on Hack before searching the scattered children standing in the space, filling it over. “Where’s Margo?” she asked. His eyebrows knit together and he didn’t respond. “Where’s Margo?!” she shouted, beginning to push past and around the children in her search.

“She’s here,” Matches called from inside the med nook. It was no more than a dip in the formation of their single-room shuttle. She poked her head out and looked at her. “It’s not looking good, boss.”

“Move please,” Cal whispered, and the children cleared a path so she could approach the area of the floor where they’d set her aside. Margo laid with her eyes closed, on hand resting on her chest and the other lying limp at her side.

Matches grabbed Cal’s arm as she made to move toward her, forcing her to meet the girl’s eyes. “I gave her as much omnigel as I could, but far as I can tell, it’s not helping much. I think she’s–”

“Don’t.” Cal glared at her and then looked up at Fox’s back. “Get us back as fast as you can. I’m not losing any more of my people today.”

Matches nodded and backed up. _Smart girl_.

Cal kneeled and placed a hand on Margo’s cheek. Her eye fluttered open. “Hey,” she whispered.

“You’re here,” Margo said, her ragged voice quiet in a way that made Cal feel cold. A trace of a smile quirked her lips. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” She smiled and felt the now-familiar salt sting of tears. She lowered herself all the way to the floor and leaned back against the wall. Once she was settled, she pulled Margo between her legs and cradled her head against her stomach. She smoothed the woman’s hair back as her tears splashed onto her forehead. “I’m here.”

“Like a shepherd.” Margo smiled up at her, a distant look in her eye. “Finding your lost sheep.”

Cal frowned and looked up at Matches, who stood with her arms crossed and raising one eyebrow at the sight of them. Cal sighed. “I’ll explain later,” she whispered. “What’s wrong with her?”

“It was a _lot_ of omnigel,” Matches stated, bone dry. “And yeah, I’ll hold you to that explanation.”

Cal shook her head and turned her attention back to the girl in her lap, who still stared up at her dreamily with one good eye.

“My very own shepherd,” she sighed.

“Yes,” Cal whispered, low enough she wasn’t even sure if she heard. She wanted to kiss her forehead, hold her tight and never release her again, shield her from any more violence, but she didn’t. She just let more tears fall and kept smoothing back her hair. “Whatever you want.”

           

As soon as they landed, the shuttle burst with activity. Cal hoisted Margo into her arms. Hack and Matches did their best to support Flex who was, somehow, still breathing, if only barely. Cal led them out of the shuttle into the street’s cool air. Before they even reached the door, it opened, with Brains standing in her way, arms crossed.

When she registered the injured woman in her arms, Flex’s still form in theirs, and all the nameless children, her arms and mouth dropped. “Calamity,” she hissed, marching forward a few steps and blinking rapidly at everyone before settling her gaze on hers. “What _is_ this?”

“What does it look like?” she bit back. “Get out of the way. We need to get these two to Doc. _Now_.”

Brains acquiesced with a grunt, stepping to the side. As Cal and the others strode past, she kept pace with her.

“Does Finch know about this? No one told me about any runs.”

“This wasn’t planned,” she grit out, speeding up.

Brains was not deterred. “Fucking hell, Cal. You’re insane.”

“Is he here?”

“Finch?”

“No, fucking Santa Clause.”

Brains glared. “No, he’s on patrol. Should be back in an hour or two.”

“Okay.” They pushed through the doors of their medbay. “Good. Doc?” she called out.

Doc walked out of his office and froze at the sight of them. Of course, he wasn’t really a doctor, but he was one of the oldest members there, at a strapping twenty years old, and had more experience and medical training than anyone else. He took his glasses off and cleaned the lens. When he put them back on and his medbay was still flooded with strangers, he looked somehow more surprised.

Cal lowered Margo onto a cot while Hack and Matches lowered Flex onto the one next to it. “Doc?” she called. “See to Flex first.” She locked eyes with him and glanced at the still gaping hole in her friend’s chest, the first terrible grips of fear finally taking hold of her lungs. “He got hit.”

           

The flurry of activity in the medbay was enough to make her head spin. Anyone with any medical experience was there, treating children or gathering supplies. Matches stayed at Flex’s side, holding his hand and helping Doc where she could. Cal, of course, stayed with Margo. It had been over two hours and already her one eye was down to normal size and her bruises were showing signs of healing. She remained unconscious, on Doc’s orders. “The injection I gave her should stop the internal bleeding, but she has to rest.” Cal hadn’t had words for her relief or shock, and the good doctor hadn’t had the time to register either even she had something to say. He had immediately returned to Flex, trying everything in his power to do…something. Anything.

 “Cal!”

She turned to see Smiley standing in the doorway doing anything but. She immediately turned her attention back to Margo and waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder. In response, she heard his thundering steps making their way toward her.

He yanked her arm until she faced him. “Finch wants to see you. Now.”

“Get your _fucking_ hands off of me.” She pulled her arm out of his grip and shoved his shoulders back. “I’m not leaving until they wake up.” She took Margo’s hand in hers and sat back down.

His face turned beet red and his nostrils flared as he leaned in low. She could feel his breath on her neck. He smelled like fucking onion rings. “You may think you’re hot shit here, but we both know who’s really in charge. Get your ass in there.”

She exhaled through her nose and rolled her eyes until they landed on his. “Cut the dramatics.” She stood and looked at Matches. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Send me a message with any updates.”

Without further ado, she strode past the bulking man and made her way to Finch’s office. She focused her breathing and steeled over her face until it was nothing but hard lines and cold eyes. Never mind the shaking in her hands – she curled them into fists at her side. Never mind the old fear that trickled through her veins – she didn’t have time for that sort of weakness now. Even as she pursed her lips against the too-sharp, unwelcome memories that made her tremble.

When she entered, Smiley wasn’t far behind. He grunted as he passed her and moved to a corner in the front of the room. Finch was standing behind his desk, back facing her. She took a shuddering breath and straightened, folding her hands behind her back.

“You paged?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

When he turned to her he looked anything but amused. He dropped a datapad onto the desk with a clatter, almost making her jump.

“Tell me,” he growled, “that those people in my medbay – using my resources, my people, and my _time_ – are not who I think they are.”

“Seeing as I’m not in your head, I couldn’t possibly speculate –”

“God _dammit_ , Cal!” He slammed his fist against desk, which _did_ succeed in making her flinch. “Do not _fuck_ with me right now.”

She closed her mouth and inhaled sharply. “What was I supposed to do, Finch?”

He glared and came out from behind the desk with a dark intensity burning in his eyes. “What?”

“They were _orphans_.” She clenched and unclenched her fists as she swallowed. “I couldn’t just leave them out there to die!”

“To my understanding, they weren’t exactly ‘dying’ when you found them.” His voice came out low and steady.

She huffed. “Yes. Yes, I found them being cared for. And I helped, because I know what not having food or medical supplies really means, what it does to a good place. I couldn’t abandon them to figure it out on their own, not when I could help.”

“Not when you’re using _my_ resources,” he shouted, marching into her face. “How long has it been going on, Cal? How long were you stealing from your own people for Venom’s filth?”

She wiped his spit spray from her face and straightened. “They. Are. _Children_. They don’t deserve to be left to die!”

He slapped her across the face, the sharp sting of contact stealing her breath. She clung to her cheek and gasped, but remained staring at the floor. He walked back behind his desk, slow and steady. She could see dust falling to the floor from the window’s morning light.

He sighed heavily. “Alright. Let’s say I understand, then. But this,” he gestured from the datapad to the general direction of the medbay and shook his head, “this is just fucking stupid. Even for you.”

“They took them,” she bit out through her teeth, slowly straightening again, “to be slaves or worse. They took _children_ for that. I –” she swallowed, “I promised to keep them safe.”

He shook his head. “On your own authority. Not mine.” He carded his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I want them gone, Cal. As soon as they’re all able to walk, I’m done.”

“No!” she cried, taking one staggering step forward before his gaze froze her in place. “Please,” she whispered. “They’ll kill them all.”

“That’s not my problem.”

She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off by the door creaking open. Cal turned to find Margo standing in the doorway, gripping the handle as support while her free hand clutched her side. Cal’s mouth dropped. She looked…better, in the barest sense of the word. Both of her eyes were open and functional, most of her cuts looked weeks old, and her bruises were a sickly green-yellow. Still, that did nothing to show whatever was still fucked up inside. Margo staggered forward, limping heavily, and it took the last reserves of Cal’s will not to move forward to help her.

“We haven’t met.” Her voice was all wrong, raspy and wet. It made Cal want to scream, fight, do anything to keep her out, as far away from Finch as she could. “My name is Margo,” she continued, ignorant of Cal’s torment. “Until last night, I was the Seamus Hale’s _selva_. For the past three months, I continuously left my post every night to care for homeless children. Cal found us two and half months ago and helped us survive without being discovered.” She took a shuddering rasp of breath. “Whatever you think she did, I can offer full guarantee that she did nothing to harm any of you. Any supplies we used were found and taken by ourselves alone. She didn’t take from you, I didn’t take from them. We were self-sufficient. Only trying to help.”

Finch’s nose twitched as he considered her. “Be that as it may, she put my people in harm’s way today on a run I didn’t authorize, two of whom have already died.” Cal whipped toward him. _Flex_. He gave her unabashed look of horror no more than a glance as he continued. “At this point, Venom doesn’t know who did it or what the fuck is going on, but you are their property, and have already cost me far more than you’re worth.”

“Please,” Margo whimpered. She took another staggering step forward and collapsed on her knees. Cal felt everything go hot and moved to pull her upright, only to have Smiley grip her arm.

“I’ll do anything.” Her voice was raw. “I served them for years. Anything they did, I knew about. I can help you. I’ll stay hidden. I’ll serve you. Just…please. These children have been through so much already.” She bowed her head. “Just allow me to take care of them, under whatever parameters you deem fit.”

The silence of his consideration was agony. Cal felt her body twitch against it. The sight of the bravest, strongest woman she knew submitting herself so entirely, so selflessly, made her want to scream. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t have her. She would burn this place to the fucking ground before –

“Alright. That’s enough.” He waved a hand. “We will provide you with a place to stay, to care for your people. But you must continue as you have, gathering your own resources on your time. In return, the only thing I require is your information, whenever I want it and whatever I ask.”

Margo nodded and swallowed. “And my other…services?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve no desire to exploit something already used up.” He picked up his datapad and gave her one last look. “Cal will show you where you can stay tonight until we find a suitable location.”

At that, Smiley released her arm with a shove and she collapsed onto the floor with Margo, encasing her in her arms as she lifted her to her feet again. She shot a glare at Finch, who barely glanced at her, before turning to the door. They made their way slowly, and were almost out when –

“Cal?”

She swallowed and locked eyes with Margo. Her lover only nodded and gripped the door handle in support. Cal turned around, back as straight as she could manage. He stood in front of his desk now, hands free, one gesturing for her to come. Cal took slow, even steps toward him, face carefully blank and head held high.

When she was close enough, he placed his hand at the base of her back and pulled her the rest of the distance until she was pressed against him. Her breath hitched, but wrapped her arms robotically around him in return.

“I quite like the sight of that girl on her knees,” he whispered in her ear, chasing his menace with a deceptively delicate kiss just below her ear lobe. Her eyes widened. He turned and cradled her face with one hand. “I want to see you like that tonight.”  He tipped her mouth to his. She opened hers on instinct, allowing him to explore and devour and ruin, remembering all too well what happened if she was anything but welcoming. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against hers and held her gaze.

Whatever warmth his eyes once held for her was gone. All that was left was icy grey.

“No more secrets.”

She nodded once. “No more secrets.”

He released her and it took everything in her to fight the immediate impulse to run. Instead, she made her steps match her pace before; slow and even. Steady. Unshaken. _Lies_. She wrapped her arm around Margo’s waist and supported her weight as they made their escape.

*  *  *

“Do _not_ open your eyes.”

Margo laughed and immediately covered her mouth to stifle it. “Not even a peak?” Her mouth twitched in a smirk, wrinkling part of the blindfold.

“Absolutely not,” Cal stated professionally. “If you do, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Fine.” She bit her lip, though that didn’t stop her smile. “We better be close then.”

“Ye of little faith.” Cal kept her hands firmly, respectfully, on Margo’s shoulders as they walked down the street. “Now, turn right, and stop.” She placed a hand at the small of her back for just a moment (to steady her, of course) and stepped back. “Okayyy and open!”

Margo lifted the blindfold and a grin burst over her face, like the sun reclaiming the earth at dawn. She turned that beam on her and Cal felt warmth spill over her whole body.

“What is this?”

She smirked. “What do you think?” She indicated the door to the three story apartment building wedged between the backs of two businesses on a side road. It was almost a perfect match for what they had before, in terms of function, and it was as out of the way as the situation needed.

“Are you serious?” she asked, voice cracking at the end.

“Of course.”

Margo turned back to the door, mouth gaping, and took a tentative step forward.

“Well, go on then,” Cal said, nudging her shoulder.

She laughed and made her way swiftly up the steps. Cal followed closely behind, fighting the urge to hover. Over two weeks of treatment left Margo fully healed in all respects, save for her now-pixie-cut hair. But Cal had a hard time forgetting those first few nights where all the woman did was vomit up blood and beg for the end. Those were the nights when Cal wondered if omnigel would really be enough. But now Margo turned to her, hand on the door and wearing a face-eating grin, as if she had never been that dying girl.

“Open it up.”

Margo walked through the threshold and covered her mouth. Inside to the left was a door that lay open to reveal a gigantic coat closet, and to the right was a stairwell leading up to second floor. Directly ahead of them was a hall that was almost identical to the one of their previous building.

Cal pulled the door shut softly. Margo still stood frozen there, just inside the entrance. Cal approached her and slipped her hand into Margo’s free one while placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. Margo finally turned to her, mouth still parted slightly, and squeezed their fingers. A soft smile lifted her lips.

“It’s too much.” Her voice was quiet, and still it echoed through the hall.

“I wish it was more.”

“Seriously.” Margo put her other hand on Cal’s arm and looked around again. “It has to come at a price.”

“That’s not your concern.” Cal pulled her head gently toward her and pressed a kiss into her lover’s hairline. When she pulled back, Margo was smiling again. “Come on. Let me show you the rest.”

They made their way through the first floor, which held two large living room spaces and the kitchen and dining room areas. Next the second floor, which was roughly fifteen singlet bedrooms. And finally the third floor, which held still more of the singlets. All of the spaces were fully furnished and stocked, ready to move in.

“What do you think?” Cal asked.

“What do I think?” Margo let out one chuckle and released her hand. She made her was over to a vintage end table that sat beneath a mirror in the hall. She pursed her lips and swallowed and met Cal’s eyes through the mirror. “It’s perfect. It’s everything we’ve ever needed.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She walked over and took Margo’s hand in hers again. “But there’s still one more thing.”

Margo frowned, but followed as Cal began to pull her down to the end of the hall, where a closed door lay in wait. At the door, Cal shot her a smile before pushing it open.

Inside was a full king bed, a dresser, a walk-in closet, and a personal bathroom. Margo froze, but Cal didn’t give her the chance to respond. She merely pulled her inside and closed the door behind them.

“The master bedroom,” she offered, letting go of her hand and stepping back so Margo could take in the full scene. “You deserve more than a couch to sleep on, after everything you’ve done. I wanted to make sure you had a place to be by yourself.”

When Margo turned back to her, her eyes were shining and wet. “Fuck,” she said with a soft chuckle. She sniffled and wiped at her nose. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. So long as it’s good enough, that’s all that matters.”

“Good enough?” the woman repeated, shaking her head and smiling. She walked over to her and raised her hands as if she would embrace her, then hesitated. “Is it – is it safe?”

Cal nodded. “Bug free. I did the sweep myself. I can’t say as much for the rest of the house, but I’ve set tech up in here to disable anything that might be placed in the future. It’s safe for us.” Cal ducked her head and tucked some hair back behind her ear while studying the floor. “If that’s still what you want.”

It felt like it had been so long since they held each other, since they touched or kissed or even held too long a glance. Long enough to make her wonder…

Margo’s hands cradled her face as she tipped her head until their lips met. The familiar warmth that came only with Margo raced through Cal’s blood as soon as they made contact. At first they were both gentle; small touches to their faces, their waists, fingers twirling in hair. Cal’s tongue darted across the edge of Margo’s lips hungrily, begging for entrance, and Margo didn’t hesitate. Cal groaned into the woman’s mouth and pulled her flush against her body as their tongues danced and devoured. Margo’s nails scraped across her back, her neck, her waist, anywhere they could reach.

When they broke apart for air, they were both panting, foreheads connected and eyes closed.

“God, I missed that,” Margo sighed, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“Mmm.” Cal nuzzled into her neck, trailing soft kisses all the while. “Me too.”

“So,” Margo said, still a touch breathless. “What’s the plan? For us?”

Cal looked at her briefly, before giving her a quick kiss. “I don’t know.” She kissed her again, longer, deeper this time. “But right now,” another kiss, “and for the foreseeable future,” another kiss, “this place is ours.” She moved in to kiss her again, but a hand on her chest stopped her.

Margo was frowning. “What if Finch finds out? He’ll kill you, Cal.”

She shook her head. “He won’t.”

“What about the kids? What about –”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh.” Cal wrapped her up tight in her arms, silencing the growing panic in her lover’s voice. After a moment, when her breathing was steady again, Cal pulled back and placed on hand on her cheek. “Now, listen to me. You are _safe_ here. The kids are safe. And I am never going to let anything happen to you ever again.”

Margo nodded, a vigorous, repetitive motion, as if the movement in affirmation could force it to be true. Then she kissed her once, twice, three times; again and again until they were both kissing each other in chaotic rhythm, like it was the only thing holding them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Godddddddd, this chapter fucked me up. Sorry it's so LONG and so much HAPPENS. It just had to be this way haha. 
> 
> Almost done now! Thank you so so so much for reading. You are lovely and kind and radiant and I truly don't deserve you <3
> 
> Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated ^_^


	4. To Destroy

**One Year Later**

Cal pushed open Finch’s door. The resulting slam against the wall made both Finch and Navi jump.

“Christ, boss, what the fuck?” Navi’s face was screwed up into a frown, glancing between the door and her.

She didn’t tear her eyes from Finch. “You’ve got about two seconds to get out, Navi, so help me god.”

Navi raised his hands and hung his head. “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

The grunt had the good sense to close the door behind him. He was only a kid, no more than fifteen. Probably less. Cal felt irony prickle in her neck at the thought as she eyed Finch: after all, they were only that age when this started, and now she was eighteen to his twenty one. How long had they done this to kids? How many years?

Finch pressed his tongue into his lower lip and straightened the datapads he’d dropped before looking back up at her. “Can I help you?”

She exhaled through her nose. “You can, actually. For once.” She moved until she was standing opposite to him at his desk. “Venom made a move.”

“I heard.”

“Yeah, I _heard_ , that you heard,” she mocked, her hands curling into fists. “They attacked the home, Finch. Kids that came to _us_ for protection are dead.”

“And?”

A startled huff escaped. She blinked against the salty bite in her eyes. “And? _And_ , what the fuck are you doing standing around here? They fucking _killed_ them. They let them burn alive. They –” her voice cracked and dropped off. “They mutilated Margo and displayed her for anyone to see.”

He sighed and turned his back on her to place a datapad on the shelf behind him. “We’re not doing anything about this, Calamity.”

For a split second, there was only a buzzing sound in her ears. “What?”

“You heard me.” His mouth was a hard, thin line.

“Yeah, I _heard_ you, but I must have been hallucinating. Mike, they _attacked_ us. They killed them all. We have to–”

“I gave it to them, Cal.”

She had never been one for metaphor. She found that between struggling to survive and fighting for others’ safety, it didn’t leave much time for literary appreciation, let alone enjoying it in the first place. But in that moment, she understood perfectly what they meant when they said someone’s voice could slice through you like a knife.

“You’re lying.” She stumbled back, her voice no more than a breath in the air.

He moved around the desk and took her hands into his. She couldn’t feel her fingers where he gripped them. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his steely grey ones; they looked glassy, lifeless, devoid of any regret she was searching for. She couldn’t– couldn’t think.

“I’m not. I did what I had to.”

“No.” He couldn’t do this to her. He wouldn’t. This wasn’t happening, not after everything.

“I couldn’t tell you because you would try to stop it.”

A black chuckle tumbled her, startled her back to her senses. She frowned and pulled her hands out of his. “They were just kids, Mike. Why– how–”

His lip curled in a familiar way. Fear prickled up her spine. “They had something on me.”

She took a deep breath, steeled herself against whatever storm was brewing within him. “Horseshit. You would never acknowledge your weakness that way. _God_ , they were children. And Margo–” Her voice hitched and cracked on the girl’s name. “You _promised_ to keep her safe.”

“ _They_ were the weakness, and you know it,” he spat. “That bitch’s history followed her like an unholy plague since they arrived. You’re the one who brought her here in the first place, dropped her at _my_ feet. You didn’t give me an option to say no!”

“She was only nineteen!” she screamed. “Barely older than me. What if it _had_ been me, Mike? Was I so different when I came to you? You _promised_ , goddammit–”

“She was on borrowed time and you know it!”

The silence he left with his words ripped straight through her core. Cal had seen her share of violence, her share of hatred; of all the fights she’d been in, none left her as breathless as his declaration.

“Are you that heartless?” she whispered. Her hand gripped the desk, supported her weight as the room swirled.

“Are you that blind?” he sneered. He stepped closer, into her space and only inches away. “You used to be good at this. At leading. You could make the hard decisions. Even with kids involved. You brought in Margo and all those other Venom brats and made us vulnerable, and you didn’t even care. They changed you. Hell, Cal, you changed your fucking name! The name you earned!”

 _Shepherd_. The name for Margo, for the children. The name he wasn’t supposed to know.

She stared at him and pursed her lips. He went on.

“You were getting weak,” he hissed. “That’s not the girl I know, that’s not the girl who joined. I did what I had to, to bring her _back_. Think about it, I mean really think, and you know I’m right. The girl I know wouldn’t be this bent up over some used up whore and and her worthless wards.” He moved, somehow, impossibly closer. His hot breath against her lips sent a chill down her spine. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” she snarled, squaring her shoulders.

One lifted eyebrow was all he gave her. “Unless there was more there, and you’ve been _lying_ to me.”

She swallowed and wet her lips, knowing better than to move away now. The damage was done. “No unless.” Her voice was steel and fire. “Just some confusion. But I understand perfectly now.”

The beat of silence thundered through her chest.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, rough and slimey, even as she remained still. “Now, if you’re finished, we have work to do.” He walked back around the desk and picked up the pads he had been holding when she first walked in. He didn’t even glance up.

“Right.” She took a steadying breath and fought the urge to curl her fist. “See you later.”

She barely made it out of the base, away from everyone, before her rage ripped through her in a scream.

 

Margo added far more light to her life than she had ever realized. Every moment spent pretending – doing patrols, managing runs, eating dinner, sleeping in his bed, was like chasing a glass of razor blades with acid. At first, the attack was all anyone talked about. At first. But a few pointed looks from Finch’s choice assholes, and everyone suddenly forgot.

Matches found her one night, a week after and hidden away in a corner of the base, sobbing uncontrollably. Matches gave her no more than a glare, the briefest flash of pity, and then left her alone again. She’d never forgiven her for Flex. _“If I hadn’t used all the omnigel on_ her _,” she’d gasped through sobs. “If – if –”_ Their friendship hadn’t survived it, not that Cal blamed her. But Matches took everyone else along with her in solidarity, and without them, without Margo, she felt utterly, entirely, alone.

During the day, most of the time, she swallowed her grief; a daily pill that stoked her rage, her own personal gasoline. The worst was the waiting, for an opportunity, for a window, for everyone to forget.

She had never been good at waiting.

Three bitter months passed. She did anything Finch asked; any patrol, run, kill, _service_. It didn’t fucking matter. Not if it made him trust her again. And oh, how it did. She became every ruthless dream he’d ever wanted to mold her into. She became a tool at the disposal of the Reds, to inflict on anything or anyone Finch wanted.

Calamity was dying, and she didn’t care.

“I have a proposition for you.” She was leaning against Finch’s chest in their bed, drawing lazy circles on his hand as he read through a report.

He immediately dropped it and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair greedily. “And what would that be?”

She laughed and wiggled out of his arms, pulling back to stare at him. “Not that kind of proposition.” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I got intel today, from one of Margo’s old sources. Someone who still trusts me.” Her lover’s name burned as it rolled off her tongue, foreign from disuse and somehow violent, angry at the way it was being used now.

His eyes instantly narrowed and he let his arms drop. “What kind of intel?”

“The kind that gets us the profit from Venom’s next hit, one of their biggest ones yet.” She smirked. “I did some digging. Been sitting on this for a week or so, but I know it’s good now. Are you interested?”

He pulled her close again, slipped his hand under her shirt and gripped her waist. “I’m interested in a number of things,” he groused, pressing a hungry kiss to her neck. “But to that, I’ll think about it. Send me the details.”

Cal kissed him back eagerly, and swallowed the bile that tried to fight its way to the surface.

 _Soon_.

           

Finch set the kegs into motion to follow her plan. The extent, the enormity of the hit itself, was thus far the largest in scale over anything they’d attempted before. The entire base buzzed, alive with activity and preparation as the day approached. Even in all the bustle, Cal felt like every day grew longer and longer. She thought she should feel some kind of doubt, some measure of remorse or nervousness, but the only thing she felt was heady anticipation building in her marrow.

By the time the night before the assumed plan rolled around, she didn’t sleep. She wandered the base, arming charges and memorizing the precious few spaces that mattered, that meant something good to her. The base itself was still, quiet in the way it was when she joined. _How different it was then. Before the drugs and the prostitutes and the–_ She blew out a sigh and shook away her thoughts. No time for nostalgia when it was already too late, when there was work to be done. Not even patrols roamed the interior of the building – only two guards remained outside, allowing the rest of the gang to rest in preparation. Cal almost smiled at the thought.

T-minus two hours. It would be dawn soon. She sat on a sofa in the shared space and cracked open a beer. She rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Three months later and she still didn’t feel relaxed. Not yet. Not quite.

 _Soon_.

“What are you doing up?”

Cal jerked her head up. Matches stood before her, frowning, hand on her hip, and just as fully dressed as she was.

“Drinking a beer.” She punctuated by sipping it and then pursing her lips into a hard line.

Matches’ frown deepened. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

She harrumphed, rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Sorry for asking.”

The words were so close to their more familiar, now foreign, banter that Cal had grown so accustomed to that it made her heart ache. As the young girl – _young woman_ – turned to walk away, Cal shot up and grabbed her arm.

Matches looked up at her with some bitter mix of anger and sadness brewing in her eyes. Cal swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“I never meant–” the sentence broke, shattered between them. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Again. “I’m sorry about Flex. He…he was the best of us. I miss him every. Single. Day.” Another shuddering breath. She released the woman’s arm. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I never wanted him to get hurt. For any of you to get hurt.”

Matches sniffed and took a step back. “But we did.” Her voice was smaller, all brokenness, void of anger, which made it somehow worse. “Nothing’s been the same since–”

“I know. It’s all fucked up. Way too fucked up. But, I’m going to fix it. I’m making it right. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Matches frowned anew, and took another step back. “What are you talking about?”

Cal felt a small inkling of panic form in her chest, but her gut urged her forward. “Listen,” she whispered, leaning down so she was only inches from her ear. “Leave tonight. Take Hack, Adonis, Brains, whoever else hasn’t sold their souls to the shit hole this place has become, and leave.” She pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Don’t look back.”

“But–”

“Stop!” she hushed, covering Matches’ mouth and sighing. “Don’t ask questions, just, trust me.” She removed her hand and shook her head. “And if you can’t do that, just know you can’t stop me. There isn’t enough time. But if anyone deserves a chance – it’s you, and whoever else you think is worth it.”

There was a long silence where Matches only stared. Cal couldn’t even see her breathing. The ring on her pinky finger felt heavy and rubbed it with her thumb as she waited.

“Okay. I’ll get them out of here.”

Cal half hoped for a hug, but Matches turned away, heading in the direction of Hack’s bedroom. She turned to resume her brief moment of respite, but –

“Hey.” Matches stood leaning past the hallway entrance, wearing a familiar, if slightly sad, smirk. “Don’t die.”

Cal let out a surprised chuckle. She picked up her beer and tipped it her way, returning her smirk. “You know me.”

 

T-minus two minutes. Cal settled herself into the maintenance railway, far above the partitioned rooms that the base had turned the old warehouse into, and separate from the makeshift second story. Below, people were milling about, eating breakfast and gathering their things for the mission. She knew all the faces like the back of her hand, no matter how distorted their hearts had become as a result of Finch’s poison, but faces she had dreaded seeing were absent. She blew out a breath. Matches always had been a good judge of character.

Thirty seconds now. She slunk as far into the shadows as she could.

Finch emerged in the kitchen, smiling and pouring a mug of coffee. When he turned, his eyes scanned the crowd of people milling about in the area. How she wished he could see her face when –

The door exploded. The blast left a glowing white hole in the wall, which was quickly filled with gunfire and masked men. The scattered members of the Reds shouted and fumbled for cover, for weapons. The attackers cut them down in moments, with clatters of coffee cups and plates of food following the thuds on their bodies. A strange moment of stillness carried through, even to her, as the attackers paused and took in their carnage. One of them relaxed and pulled off his mask, revealing Seamus, the very snake she’d hoped for.

She smirked as the rest removed their masks, some even holstering their weapons.

_Party’s just getting started boys._

Cal’s finger had begun to twitch over her detonator when a fresh burst of gunfire broke out in the room below. She stifled her gasp and gripped the rail to keep from falling. Finch had somehow managed to escape the initial firefight and was now back, with more men and more guns. Tables and couches and chairs were flipped and used as shoddy cover. The roar of the guns and the shouting made it hard for her to think, to breathe. Bursts of blood splatter and collapsing bodies occurred on both sides. She had never heard such shouts of agony, not even when –

She was gripping it so tight. Her finger just slipped.

Fire engulfed the room below. The explosion jarred her railway, the old metal groaning against the assault. She dropped the detonator, a shaky shout escaping her. The metal groaned again and snapped, hurling her down into the inferno she had created. She swung wildly around, grabbing for some kind of grip, but only managed to hit the hot floor with her shoulder, an unnatural crunch echoes through her skull.

Cal screamed, rolling off the offending limb and gripping it with her other hand. She blinked away the black and white spots in her eyes as pain raced over her body. She grit her teeth and looked around.

Everything, _everything_ , was burning. Only a few patches of floor had remained untouched. And somehow, _somehow_ , she was on one of them.

It took every ounce of her will to force herself to sit up and stand. The heat and smoke made it hard to see, hard to breathe. Bodies and furniture burned in indiscernible heaps all around her, with no exit in sight. She swallowed and used her good hand to pull her scarf up over her face. When she could breathe a little clearer, she glanced around for movement, but only found flames licking themselves ever closer.

Panic kept into her as she quickly dug out her flame repressant from her coat pocket. She held it up and aimed for a path ahead, hoping to god that it was near the door. As she pressed the button at the top of the canister, the flames died as if doused. She laughed, breathless and frantic, and held the button as she staggered forward. In mere moments, she hit the wall, just a few feet shy of the blast hole that Venom had so nicely left for her. She hit the wall triumphantly and laughed, true and clear. _I made it. I_ made _it._

“Calamity!”

The voice was hoarse, from shouting or smoke inhalation she couldn’t tell, but she knew it as well as she knew her own. She turned, glanced back into the heat and destruction, and saw Seamus’ burning, bloodied corpse lying partially exposed in her cleared area. But further back, Finch was lying prone on the floor at the very edge of her flameless path. He clawed himself further forward, still screaming her name.

“Help me!”

Cal held his gaze. Some part of her knew that all the traditional morals of the universe should dictate this moment, should make her feel a measure of guilt that would drive her to an act of mercy. Of kindness.

She felt no such force now.

She lit an igniter Matches had given her years ago and dropped it onto her path; let the flames swallow his screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thisssss was so satisfying to write oh my godddd. That may sound fucked up, but after the last chapter, this pay off was well worth the actual, literal suffering it took to write it. 
> 
> Anyway, only one more now! Thank you for readingggg! You are sunchine and loveliness and all that is good in this world ^_^ Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated <3


	5. Genesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really more of a epilogue, but this chapter title is cooler :P

The keyboard clacked loudly in small office space. Cal fidgeted in her stolen clothes as she watched the Alliance recruiter type in her information.

“Alright, we’ll need some basic information before we get started. Please state your full name.”

“Cal.” She straightened under the small glance he shot her way. “Cal Shepard.”

“Cal Shepard,” he repeated as he typed. “Date of birth?”

“April 11th, 2154.”

He let out a low whistle and gave her a quizzical brow. “You’re only just eighteen?”

She squared her shoulders. “There’s a minimum age for a reason. I meet that.”

He chuckled. “No need to get defensive. We just don’t see many sign on that young without us knowing about their interest ahead of time.” When she didn’t respond, he shrugged and continued his typing. “What made you want to join the Alliance?”

“A fresh start.”

He didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect him to. He hit one last button with an air of finality and was met with resounding _errr_ that couldn’t be positive. He frowned at his screen and leaned forward. She licked her lips and tried to steady her breath.

He turned his frown on her now, seeming to only now fully take her in. “You’re not in the records system.”

“I didn’t expect I would be.”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“I was wiped from your system two years ago in an attempt to mask my criminal activity with the Reds.”

He leaned back in his seat, his face frozen for a moment, then laughed. “That’s not possible.”

She leaned forward, trying her best to be…open. Sincere. “I wish it wasn’t. I liberated myself from that life as of three days ago. I’m here to do something better. I’ll do whatever it takes to join, be it testimonies or anything else I can offer to prove my willingness to _start over_. To be trustworthy.” She rested her hands on his desk, clasped together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “Please.”

The man was silent for a moment. Every breath of it made it harder to keep together her small semblance of composure.

“I’ll make some calls. Wait here.”

He disappeared into a back room. As soon as the door closed, she let her relief flood out in a strangled burst. She buried her face in her hands, and even she couldn’t tell if she was laughing or sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S IT. God, this fic was by far the most emotionally draining and intense thing I've ever written, and god love you for suffering through it with me. 
> 
> Again, A MILLION AND MORE THANKS will never be enough to thank potionsmaster for the incredible, phenomenal, AMAZING art ohmygoddddd.
> 
> I have thoroughly loved every second of this MEBB. Thanks for hosting, mods. Thanks agains to my beta, zenstrike. And I can't thank whoever reads this enough for doing so. Thank you thank you thank you a million. I hope your day is grand. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Seriously. This fic is my little love child and I do hope you've enjoyed it. You are the best kind of person <3
> 
> Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated and cherished ^_^


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